


Blood First

by TwigsofManyFaces



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Foster Sibling Incest, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Pedophilia, Sibling Incest, Statutory Rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 31,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8493082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwigsofManyFaces/pseuds/TwigsofManyFaces
Summary: This will largely revolve around Theon, his family, and Robb. Possibly will include Ramsay and Jon Snow. This is a writing experiment for me to explore some of my own trauma experiences. A friend helped me fall in love with Theon and this is how I imagine his early childhood influencing all the terrible decisions he makes later. Fingers crossed no one outside of this fic gets hurt. Also, fingers crossed this will eventually include sexy, sexy porn. Please let me know if I need to tag something!





	1. Pyke and Winterfell

Balon Greyjoy never got a damn thing from his father, and he didn’t plan on handing anything to his sons. Not even after holding Maron the first time. He couldn’t explain what he felt with his absolutely tiny son, warm and fitful in his hands. Not until Maron was older. Not until his son could do more than toddle.  


Alannys was busy with Rodrik upstairs, where Balon could hear her pacing and singing, or walking from room to room. Rodrik was nursing, and now teething. He was still too uncoordinated, too likely to cry over anything for Balon’s interest. At least the baby meant that Alannys was nearly always buried under diapers, baby food, laundry, breastfeeding, cooking, and cleaning. In that way, at least, Rodrik was useful. But Maron...  


The way little fingers wandered over skin - any skin - made Balon’s breath catch. It was a softness he didn’t find embarrassing. A tickling that he’d never had from his doleful wife. Warm and clinging, always. The first time he came with Maron, the boy had been fresh from a bath and tucked into his pajamas. His son had crawled into his lap while he watched Monday night football on the couch. It was just after the halftime break. Alannys was trying to soothe a wailing Rodrik in the upstairs nursery. He’d assumed Maron must have climbed down the stairs on his own while his mother was distracted.  


Maron had curled up between Balon’s legs, his head on Balon’s stomach, his thumb in his mouth. It was about the only bonding activity he allowed then. The game on the tv dissolved into white noise as his Maron snuggled and wriggled between his legs. Balon had set his beer down on a tray table, unable to breath as little fingers worried rhythmically at the hem of his boxers. He’d reached down, wrapped his hands around Maron’s ribs, just under his armpits. The flannel pajama’s had made his hands sweat.  


He’d actually cried when he came. It had been torture, supporting Maron with gentle hands while he rubbed himself against his son’s little back. All the while, Maron’s face had stayed turned toward the tv, while he grunted with the effort of not leaving marks. Through the long minutes, his son hadn’t so much as sighed. Balon let Maron lay between his legs while his breathing slowed, slowed from racing gasps. When he could feel that his blood was down, Balon left his son behind on the couch with the tv still on and went upstairs to take a shower.  
\-----

 

“You might be a little faster with your punches than me. Might.” Theon grinned over his shoulder at Robb, his gaping gear bag swinging at his side. More than a foot of blue sweaty hand wrap trailed from an unzippered side pocket. A leather shin guard rested atop his sparring armor in the main pocket, and it wobbled precariously with his every step.  


“Did I imagine you needing to walk off that liver shot?” Robb asked, smug. His hair, like Theon’s, was dripping with sweat. He swiped a wet curl behind his ear as he held the locker room door open with his heel so Theon could go first.  


“Your foot work’s still shit, though. You’re short. You need to be better on your feet. You got lucky,” he insisted.  


“Maybe you need thicker sparring armor,” Robb shot back, switching his bag to his other shoulder as he followed Theon. The Under Armour bag was black, covered in mesh pockets; looking and practically smelling like-new. The bag, along with all the fight gear in it, had been a gift from his father. A UFC PPV card had preceded it, the day after his fourteenth birthday. Robb was fifteen now. The bag and its contents had come with the same provision as the PPV card: “Don’t tell your mother.”  


“It’s just that you’re so skinny - all shin bone. Only reason you slipped through my guard.” Theon set his bag down on the nearest bench. There were two thin, over-bleached towels already waiting there.  


Robb reached soundlessly into his bag and then lobbed a tightly-rolled handwrap at the back on Theon’s head. He gave a triumphant whoop as mouthguard Theon tucked behind his ear was knocked to the tile floor and bounced away under the far end of the bench. Robb still blushed when anyone mentioned how slight he still was, especially Theon.  


“Touch a nerve, Stark?” he asked, glancing up from his bag. He looked up at Robb through his lashes for a moment, a sly smile on his face. Theon leaned over, spied his mouthguard, and picked it up. He tucked a side of it into his mouth while he dug back into his bag, looking for his mouthguard case.  


Robb tried not to stare while theon bent over, resolutely setting his bag down on the bench opposite Theon’s. “You’re disgusting!” He gave a shudder when Theon put his mouthguard in, right off the floor.  


“When you’re a real man,” Theon spoke around the mouthguard while he pried the case open. He spit it directly into the case and snapped it loudly shut. “You can be disgusting, too. Promise.”


	2. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is it we always choose the worst lessons to learn by experience?

“Can I come?” Theon asked. He lowered his spoon, cereal forgotten. He eyed Maron’s black leather jacket with longing, but he didn’t dare move from his seat. Weekend breakfasts were always just the four of them. It was usually a nice kind of quiet.  


“No.” Maron rolled his eyes. He jingled the car keys in his pocket, grinning. He paused at the doorway that lead to the backyard, the garage, and checked his other pocket for a lighter; there were always cigarettes in the car.  


“Dad’s going to kill you.” She kept on eating, but her gaze shot to Maron and then to Rodrik.  


“You’d like that wouldn’t you, sis?” Rodrik halted behind Theon’s chair instead of following Maron to the door. He set his hands on the chair back, leaning forward as he eyed his sister. “Why don’t you run upstairs and tell him now?”  


The legs of Asha’s chair rumbled across the hardwood as she stood up. Theon played with the torn cuff of his hoodie sleeve. Rodrik snorted, but Asha only stalked out of the dining room. Her brothers could hear her dropping her cereal bowl in the sink.  


“Maron?” It was as close to begging as Theon could risk. Rodrik cuffed him for it.  


“I said n-” Maron began.  


“We’re just going to the launch,” Rodrik interrupted, his eyes lit. “Who cares if he comes?” Rodrik grinned off his older brother’s glare. Asha walked back into the dining room.  


“Is the beer in the trunk?” Maron sighed, turning and walking down the hall toward the back door without waiting for Rodrik’s answer.  


“Let’s go watch cartoons.” The look on Asha’s face made Theon’s stomach jump. His throat felt suddenly tight. He knew she was telling, not asking.  


“Theon doesn’t want to watch that kid shit.” Rodrik shoved Theon’s head sideways, laughed, and headed off after Maron. “C’mon,” he added, over his shoulder.  


Theon stood up and hesitated next to his chair, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he avoided his sister’s eyes.  


“Don’t be stupid, Theon. Come watch tv.”  


“Don’t call me stupid!” He met her gaze, scowled, and then turned and raced after Maron and Rodrik.

 ...

Maron parked so that the car blocked all access to the boat launch. Really, the launch was the only paved ground on the whole lake. The nearby dock - like all the fishing and boat docks scattered around the long lake and out of sight - rested on earth and the tough grass that tolerated the sand. Rodrik guffawed. It was forced, but Maron smiled anyway.  


Theon wiped his palms on his jeans, then ran a hand over his hair. All of the windows had been down for the drive to the lake. The sunlight streamed in all along the driver’s side and Theon blinked. He watched as Maron got out of the car, popped the trunk, and slammed his door shut. Theon could hear the swish-flick of a lighter. He watched his older brother breathe in deep, then lean back against the car with a sigh. His leather jacket creaked as he moved, the zipper tab on the sleeve clinked softly each time he raised his smoke.  


Rodrik drummed loudly on the dashboard with both hands and laughed when Theon jumped. He threw his door wide open and didn’t bother to close it behind him. He took a lazy swipe at Theon through the back window as he sauntered to the trunk. Theon tried to ignore the heat that rushed to his ears as he fumbled with his seatbelt. He listened as his brother wrestled with something in the trunk.  


“Hey.”  


Theon jumped again and swore under his breath. He watched Maron straighten and reach toward the back of the car with his free hand. He could hear Rodrik’s shoes on the pavement, knew he was handing Maron a beer just before he saw the sun flash on the metal of the can. Maron pulled the tab one-handed. The little bit of spray glowed in the sun as Theon watched. A bit of foam spilled over the rim of the can before it disappeared from his sight. Theon could hear Maron first sucking up the foam, then swallowing, hard.  


“Are you getting out, dickless?”  


Theon felt his ears burn again, but he tugged on the door handle anyway and shoved. He breathed in deep, ignoring a little shiver, an impulse to take a piss. He loved the way the lake smelled. The wet sandy soil. Coiled, tangled green water weeds. He moved around the back of the car and dropped the beer can Rodrik lobbed at him without warning.  


“Nice one, Theon.” Rodrik snorted as he opened his own can. He took a long pull, eyeing at pointing at his little brother as he drank. Theon stooped to fetch up the beer, wiped grit off the top with a sleeve. Rodrik swallowed loudly and wiped his mouth on the back of the hand still holding his beer; his other hand kept pointing, right at Theon’s heart. “If you don’t drink every drop, you’re fucking walking back.” Theon glowered at Rodrik’s back as he turned - Maron muttering something to him.

 ...

“Second one’s always better,” Rodrik had insisted, grinning as he pressed a second beer into Theon’s hands. Theon accepted the can without a word and walked off to re-settle back in the grass. He left his brothers to lean on the hood of the car. 

It felt...right, getting to be so close to them. Close enough to hear to them talking, them smoking, them laughing. All without really having to listen to what they said. Outside of school, Theon spent most of his life alone in his room, where it was too quiet to block out the other sounds in the house. Asha made him watch tv with her sometimes, but he never got to pick the show. Being with Asha was okay. It certainly never hurt. But...being with Maron, and Rodrik? 

They were almost never around. Theon knew they were both still asleep when he dressed, ate, and waited in the front room of the house, staring out the picture window so he would see when the bus pulled up. They were never there when he came home from school. His mother was usually awake then, but he did his best to pretend she wasn’t, to ignore the periodic yells and wails that came from his parents’ room. Theon was always in bed by the time his brothers got home. He heard them, sometimes. Heard the doors opening. Heard them between awake and asleep when they plodded up the stairs, keeping their voices low. Theon hid his head under the pillows on the nights that his father...had words with his brothers for staying out all hours. 

Being with his brothers now? It made Theon’s chest swell when he breathed, brought a smile to his face that he knew to hide. It was more than worth the pebbles he felt periodically bouncing off the back of his hoodie. He grimaced as he took as big a gulp of the beer as he could manage. He didn’t hold his nose; Rodrik would’ve seen. The can was more than half empty and he was still waiting for it to taste less like rotten barf water. He felt a shiver run up his spine as sneakers padded up behind him. He tried not to flinch as Rodrik’s arm appeared over his shoulder, holding out another beer, elbow knocking expectantly - though not painfully - on his shoulder. Rodrik gave the can a little wiggle. 

“Drink up, little man.” 

“I’m...” Theon was still holding his unfinished beer. He’d been holding it with two hands, but he hurriedly shifted to one-handed so he could take the full can Rodrik was dangling in front of him. “I don’t want anymore,” he said softly. Theon flinched when his brother sighed heavy and long, dropped a hand on his shoulder. 

“We didn’t have to bring you, you know.” Rodrik’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “Do you want to go home then? Watch Spongebob with Asha?” 

“No!” Theon denied at once. He winced as Rodrik have his shoulder a harder squeeze. 

“Alright then.” 

... 

Theon waited as long as he dared. He actually felt a little sick. Too sick to wait any more. 

“Um. Maron?” 

“What do you want now?” Rodrik asked sharply. He flicked his nearly-done cigarette at Theon and laughed when his little brother flinched. 

“What?” Maron asked, meeting Theon’s gaze steadily. 

“I...I have to...” 

“So fucking go,” Rodrik burst out, laughing. He nudged Maron for another cigarette then stood up. “I’m gonna turn the radio on.” 

Maron kept his eyes on Theon. “C’mon.” He sighed, set his beer down on the car hood, and started walking off into the grass, past Theon. There was a stand of trees, shielded by sand grass and brush, and reeds on the lake side. The land might’ve had a cabin, or even a lakefront property, but it was too marshy; it flooded with heavy rains, spring melt. 

Theon trotted after Maron, trying to put his feet where his brother stepped. He caught the branches Maron held for him as they walked, threading between saplings, climbing over exposed roots, balancing and leaning where the land tilted down to the lake. He could hear music - classic rock - playing, just before they stopped. Maron nodded to an old basswood tree. 

“We don’t piss in the lake,” he said simply. 

“Yeah, okay,” Theon breathed. He moved over to the tree, clenching his jaw as he pretended he wasn’t uncomfortable peeing in the woods. By the lake. He hitched his shoulders as he unzipped his fly, knowing he couldn't have hit the water from where they were standing, not in a million years. Not even with a crossbreeze straight from the god. 

Theon was about to tuck himself back in when a hand landed on his shoulder so hard he staggered sideways. He would’ve fallen when Rodrik spun him around, but Rodrik’s hand fisted in his hoodie held him up until he could recover. 

“Let go!” Theon fumbled with his pants, trying to close them even with his boxers down. 

“O-ho. Not so dickless as we thought, huh Maron?” Rodrik gave Theon a shake as he laughed. 

“Stop it, Rodrik,” he cried, feeling tears well up in the corners of his eyes. His shame felt cold instead of hot, writhing in his guts instead of scorching up his neck and ears. Like whenever his teachers asked him why his permission slip wasn’t signed. Why was his book report so sloppy? When he watched his friends showing their parents around the classroom during open house. He’d told his teacher he had to use the bathroom, but Theon’d run home instead. 

“Don’t you want to be a man, little brother?” Rodrik taunted. Theon squirmed as he felt Rodrik’s free hand graze his abdomen, just above his prick. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t force out even a squeak. His whole body seemed to be freezing up. Here it was, summer, and not even mid-day -- was it? -- and he was suddenly so cold he couldn’t feel his fingers. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like something was pressing on his chest. 

“You’ve done this, yeah?” Rodrik asked, rubbing one palm between Theon’s legs, fingers loosely stroking his brother’s limp penis. “Can’t you get it up? Go on,” Rodrik shoved Theon away. Theon staggered backward against the tree he’d pissed on. The bark was cold and rough against his bare ass. He scrabbled with one hand at the trunk behind him, and clutched the waistband of his jeans with the other. The way his legs were braced, he couldn’t pull his pants up. He couldn’t make himself move, not with Rodrik towering over him. 

“Fucking useless,” Rodrik grumbled, his voice deep and throaty. He took Theon by the shoulders and spun him around to face the tree. Too fast; Theon fell over. Rodrik dragged him up under his armpits, and then pinned him against the tree trunk with his weight. 

Theon struggled to push away from the tree, to slip free of Rodrik’s crush. A hand on the back of his neck shoved his face, ground it against the bark of the tree. Theon whimpered, heard Rodrik grunt, lean his weight away for a moment. Heard a belt buckle click and jingle. 

“Maron!” It was barely a whisper. He closed his eyes, but the tears came anyway. He could feel his legs shaking as Rodrik pressed him against the tree, tugged first his pants down and then Theon’s further down. Rodrik’s fingers pulled at his skin on his thighs and ass, burned against the skin between his legs. 

“Stop, Rodrik,” Theon sobbed softly, both arms wrapped around the tree, hugging desperately. Every breath hurt, like when he ran the whole way home from school. He winced as the bark scraped his cheek, but he had to find Maron, had to see him. Maron wouldn’t let Rodrik... 

“Please.” He could only hold Maron’s gaze for an instant. His brother’s mouth had been loose, lips parted. And then sharp, red pain exploded through his whole body. Theon opened his mouth and howled, but no sound came out. He couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear himself gasping, crying, pleading. Rodrik thrust against him, stabbing into him, ripping into him. The tree and Rodrik kept him off the ground, caught painfully between them. Theon bawled but he didn’t struggle, terrified of dying. Theon sobbed with every thrust his brother made, his face scraped raw from the tree bark. 

He didn’t know when it was over. He came back to himself on the ground. His body, his fingers trembling against the dirt.


	3. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What could the damned really have to say to the damned?

It had taken a long while to stand, and not look. To pull his boxers and jeans up, and not feel. Breathing hurt. His feet throbbed like his shoes were laced tied too tight; he almost hadn’t been able to take that first step. And when he did? He gasped, froze. It felt like he’d been stabbed, stabbed up and in. The pangs in his stomach, in his guts, made him squeeze his eyes shut. Theon knew that if he tried to move again his guts would tear free and spill out on the ground, splash between his feet. He sobbed for minute, swayed, then took another step. By the time he’d retraced his steps to the boat launch Theon was moving steadily.  


The tears running slowly down his cheeks stung but he didn’t rub them away. He kept his eyes on the ground ahead of his sneakers and just walked. His instincts kept him on the shoulder of the road. When the first car passed, he pulled his hood up. Anyone would know who he was. Or at least, whose son he was.  


Not many people lived in Pyke. It was too far from the cities. The only people who stayed fished Iron Lake. Or they worked in the packing plant. Or the bars. Pyke didn’t have shops. Or any churches. The gas station sold groceries. Apart from the docks on Iron Lake, his school, his house, or the little lake -- well, pond really -- near his house? Theon didn’t have anywhere to go. No one did. He sobbed again, realizing he couldn’t go back to the lake but he didn’t want to go on to his house either. He cried and cried until he made himself gag. Then he kept walking.  


...

The sun was nearly down by the time Theon made it home. By then he was too tired and cold to worry about whether or not to go in. The lights were off, but he didn’t need them. He could hear voices in the dark inside the house. Recorded laughter. The tv, he realized. Theon closed the front door and leaned against it for a moment, bracing himself on the blades of his arms. He whimpered at the thought of what it would take to kick off his shoes. He clapped one hand over his mouth to hide the sounds compressing his lungs, backing up in his throat.  


“Theon!”  


He flinched at Asha’s whisper, rounded his shoulders. He whined when she grabbed him by the arm, spinning him away from the door to face her as she flicked on the hall light. The hand that had covered his mouth moved to shield his eyes, but he didn’t try to pull away.  


“Theon? What...” Asha grabbed his hand away from his face and gasped. Let go of him. Theon squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. He could hear a low buzzing in his ears. He shook his head no, again and again.  


“What happened?” she demanded, her hands gripping both of his arms. “Tell me what happened.” He could hear that she was upset. Her fingers squeezed too tight. He swallowed hard, refused to breathe. Until she shook him. “Theon, answer me--”  


“Don’t!” he wailed, tears running down his face again. He stared up into her face and winced.  


He could tell by the way she frowned that she was worried. Worried about _him_. But she only pressed a finger to her own lips. They both listened, still but for their hearts beating. Nothing stirred upstairs. Dinner would’ve been over long before sunset. Theon shook with a sob, but kept his lips pressed together; he never wanted to eat again.  


When Asha reached out and pulled on his arm again, he knew she was asking. Theon would’ve sunk to the floor right there, but his sister only shifted her hold from his bicep to his hand and drew him along behind her. He closed his eyes when she flicked the lights back off and didn’t open them. The tears came anyway, but he tried not to breathe, to make any sound. They were slow and quiet on the stairs, and Asha led them past Maron’s, Rodrik’s, their parents’, and her own door to Theon’s at the far end of the landing.  


Asha led him to the foot of his bed before she released him, letting go only to softly close the door behind them. She was practiced enough that Theon couldn’t even hear her turn doorknob to keep the latch from clinking against the lock plate.  


“Theon? Talk to me.”  


He was grateful that Asha didn’t turn on the ceiling light; he couldn’t see her eyes and she couldn’t see his. Theon couldn’t bear to answer her. He crawled slowly onto his bed, wincing and whimpering with every motion until he collapsed on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow. Enveloped by his own scent, Theon hoped he wouldn't remember, didn’t want to remember. Two breaths into the quiet and he could hear Rodrik’s words against his neck again, feel his groping fingers. Theon cried in earnest then, his sounds muffled. He felt Asha’s weight on the bed, down by his feet. He wished she’d rub his back. Wished she were their mother.  


When the tears finally stopped Theon was almost asleep. He didn’t flinch when his sister untied his shoes, sliding first one and then the other off. The bed creaked as she leaned over to set them on the floor.  


“I’ll be right back. _Right. Back._ ” The bed sprang up where she left. Theon couldn’t hear her steps, didn’t hear his door open or close.

...

“Theon? Theon, here.”  


He pulled in a deep breath and turned his head toward Asha’s voice. His room stayed dark, but the curtains on his window were still open. As blinked away the stickiness heavy in his lashes, he could see her. Tell where her face was. He guessed she was kneeling by his bed, her elbows were just shy of his pillow.  


Theon felt her fumble for the back of his hand. Her touch was gentle. The length of wood she slipped under his palm was cool and smooth. When he closed his fingers around it, he knew it was solid. Heavy. He dragged it onto his pillow, right in front of his nose.  


“It’s an ax handle,” she explained. “I took the blade off. Take it. Keep it under your pillow.”  


“Asha?” he whispered, his voice cracking.  


“I _want_ you to have it. I don’t need it anymore. Take it, Theon.”  


Though he hated himself for it, Theon couldn’t stop the tears, the way his body quaked when he dragged in air through his mouth. He wished Asha’d just hit him with it. Wished she’d cracked his skull. Killed him.  


When she stroked his hair back, he cried so hard his body curled toward hers. He wriggled onto his side to face her. Theon kept his jaw clenched shut, shaking and breathing in little gasps, all his fingers curled tightly around the ax handle. He tried not to think, not to see what happened. He concentrated on Asha’s touch. The pads of her fingers on his forehead, stroking his hair back over and over.


	4. What Are Friends For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not crying - I'm just allergic to feelings!!!

“Hey Theon!” Robb had to slow and carefully edge around a group of seniors huddled around a Winterlude poster. The corners of his smile dropped a fraction when he caught sight of Theon again. Not only had his sparring partner not waited up for him, Theon was quickly disappearing down the stairwell at the end of the hall. Robb kicked himself into a jog and then dropped down the steps two at a time to catch up. He was more surprised than anything. A lot of him was still back on the fourth floor. Robb’s World History teacher had just handed back their double-grade essays, during the last five minutes of class. He’d gotten an “A.” Well, a “double-A.” Robb would be able to use that extra grade mark to replace an upcoming assignment of his choosing. Or, he could wait until the end of the year and use it to replace his lowest test grade. And? He was the only freshman in the class to receive full marks.  


“Theon, wait up,” he called, jogging again. Theon’s stride was longer. That was usually only an issue on the mats and even then, only in terms of a reach advantage; Robb was shorter and less experienced, but he _was_ faster. “Hey,” he said, finally drew even with Theon just outside the stairwell. “It’s Thursday. Before break. This is probably the last practice we’ll be able to get in before Christm-”  


“Can’t, sorry.” Theon shrugged, still heading past the school library toward the main lobby. “Train on your own.”  


“You’re ditching?” Robb’s brows drew together and slowed to a walk. “What’s up?” Theon slowed too, but Robb figured that had little to do with a desire to share his thoughts. Theon didn’t really...share. Much. Of anything. Usually Robb could piece together where Theon’s head was at by the things he deliberately didn’t talk about. He’d certainly had a lot of practice. For _years_ he’d been in awe of Theon, finding the older brother he’d always wanted in the foster his parents took in. Robb had always prided himself on his ability to figure out when he was welcome, and when he was in the way.  


Judging by the way Theon abruptly halted, with his shoulders tensed, Robb guessed he wanted to avoid the school Dean, Ben Coughlin, who was currently exchanging waves and goodbyes with the trickle of students headed out to the parking lot. Robb only blinked when Theon glanced back at him, not reacting to the frustration evident in his brother’s face. He watched as Theon took one last look at Mr. Coughlin’s smiling side profile, swore softly, and then back-tracked. Right at Robb.  


Robb took a quick step to the side so Theon could rush past him without knocking into him.  


“You want to train?” Theon snapped without looking over his shoulder, knowing Robb followed.  


Robb frowned at Theon’s tone, but he waited until they had climbed the stairs to the mezzanine, and were more than halfway to the school’s small gym.  


“Theon?” he asked, thumbs hooked under his backpack straps.  


“What?” Theon had all but snarled. “You were all gung-ho a second ago. You wanna spar? Let’s spar.” Theon tugged open the gym door and walked inside without waiting for an answer. Robb sighed and followed him in. The space was just larger than a half court, and it was lined from wall to wall with spongy, blue wrestling mats. Saint Gabriel’s colors were navy blue and white, and while the school wrestling team didn’t attract much attention, most of the guys on it ended up with college scholarships.  


“They should just disband the football team and give the money to the wrestlers,” Theon often joked. “At least they have a record for winning. Plus it would help pay for all the plastic surgery they’re going to need if they don’t want fucked up ears for the rest of their lives.”  


One time he’d actually made Robb laugh so hard that gatorade shot out of his nose: “I’d go watch a meet, do my part to contribute to the team’s enema fund. Ever see one of those guys not win a match? Those freaks’ll need some serious medical intervention to loosen up. I mean, it can’t be the spandex. Jon wears it all the time. He says it’s for track, but we know better. And apart from the whole track team being freakish skinny from the waist up? They at least act normal enough to seem human. What? Seriously Robb!”  


...  


Their lockers were on opposite sides of the aisle. Robb insisted it was for hygiene. Theon _never_ cleaned his gear. _Ever_. Robb didn’t think about it much once they were on the mats, but the smell was hard to ignore in the locker room before they trained. Robb took his gear home every Friday to clean it, even though he was paranoid his mother would find it and demand to know where it had all come from. Boxing gloves alone might’ve been easy to hide. He could always just say they were Theon’s. His Fairtex headgear, Wesing body armor, and Hayabusa shin guards would give him away though -- Theon could cut thirty pounds and it wouldn’t help him to squeeze into Robb’s sparring equipment. Honestly, Theon couldn’t even use Robb’s hand wraps. Or wouldn’t. Theon kept his the full 180 inch length. Robb didn’t see the point in anything over 90.  


Robb hesitated after he opened his locker. He took his bag out, but he didn’t start changing his clothes. Theon had already kicked off his pants and pulled on a pair basketball trunks. He was just pulling his ratty rashguard on over his head when Robb cleared his throat.  


“Yeah Stark?” Theon asked after an uncomfortably long pause. He sat down on one of the benches that ran down the center of the locker aisle.  


“I don’t think we should spar.” Robb said quietly, waiting for Theon to look up from wrapping his hands.  


“You pussing out on me?”  


“C’mon Theon. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to train. It’s just...” Robb had to fight to the urge to look away when Theon raised his head. “Tell me what’s up. Can I help?” Theon looked away first, but Robb’s stomach was halfway up his throat.  


“Shit.” Theon finished wrapping his left hand and then sagged. He rested his elbows on his thighs, put his head in his hands. “It’s nothing. I’m failing Spanish.”  


“You’ve always failed Spanish,” Robb amended calmly.  


“Courtney Farnham won’t let me fuck her.” Theon deadpanned.  


“Isn’t she hoping to try for prom court?”  


“ _You_ won’t let me fuck you.” Theon was losing the battle not to smile.  


“My _parents_ won’t let you fuck me. Also? Catholic. You’d have to marry me first, Greyjoy. Pretty sure that would be awkward for everyone.” Theon snorted, and Robb laughed along with him.  


It was probably winter break. Theon had never taken the holidays with grace, but he usually stuck to pressing Catelyn’s buttons. For each family tradition. From Advent to Christmas. Robb thought Theon was being obnoxious. Arya thought Theon was hilarious, and she caught it whenever she actually said so.  


Robb had grown up hearing his father’s friends -- at dinners and parties -- tease the head of the Stark family about how reserved he was in public. Robb had always admired how smoothly his father took their jibes, and then won everyone’s affection while completely maintaining his demeanor. Moments like that made Robb pray at night that he would learn to be calm and steady his father was. And he was never more grateful for his father’s abilities than those moments when Theon chose to say just the wrong thing to Catelyn. Ned could always soothe his wife’s feathers. In exchange for the yuletide interventions from Ned, Theon kept his mouth shut at the dinner table, from January to November. Mostly.  


“I could hold thai pads for you,” Robb offered. He figured that was as close as Theon would let him get. For the time being.  


“Yeah?” Theon asked, head still in his hands.  


“Of course. I love letting you try to knock my head off when you’re pissed. Just let me warm up first.” He dug in his bag for his shorts. “And aim carefully, you asshole.” Robb laughed when Theon did.


	5. A Little Push

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People always regret the things they say when they're too tired or too drunk. AKA Theon has a heart to heart with Robb.

Theon could feel his hands shaking, feel loathing filling his chest like oxygen. He knew he was warm. Robb had led them through at least fifty fucking footwork drills, the first of which had been skipping rope for fifteen minutes. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he stayed loose, ready. He would wait for Robb, though. Robb had _offered_ to do this. To let Theon just... Even knowing that Theon was heavier, taller, older, and pissed, Robb had offered. So, it had to be Robb’s call. 

Usually warming up felt better -- felt right. Settling into the rhythm fixed a lot all on its own. Not, like, a hangover, but most everything else. Theon had always liked the sensation of his body stepping up while his brain stepped back. It was a relief to have everything drop away, to have his biggest worry become dragging in enough air around his mouthguard. Ignoring that dizzy, swimming feeling in his head, keeping his eyes where he needed his punches and kicks to land. He understood the rule about pushing the last thirty seconds: a person could endure anything for that long. And the rush after? After your brain had started slipping into a panic over self-preservation? Worth it every time. 

This go around? Theon couldn’t feel anything but the thick, writhing mass in his chest. The motions were familiar, there just wasn’t anything attached to them. Everything felt...off. And the lack, the ache made him contemplate just walking off the mats and going home. Home. He bit down on his mouthguard. 

“Theon?” Robb’s voice was cool, expectant. Theon looked over and into those level blue eyes. He nodded automatically, stepping toward Robb in a relaxed fight stance. 

_Relax. You’re not going to hurt him. It’s just drill. Just pad work._

“One,” Robb ordered, suddenly raising up his right arm into Theon’s line of sight. The rag-stuffed thai pad strapped to Robb’s arm flashed up, red and white. Theon jabbed. 

“One, two,” Robb said, holding up both pads. Theon’s jab was a quick tap, but his two was a punch that widened Robb’s eyes for an instant. 

“One, two, one.” 

Tap, _bam_ , tap. 

“Two, one, two.” 

_Bam_ , tap, _bam_. 

“One, one, two.” 

Tap, tap, _bam_. 

On and on, it went. Call and response. Robb’s voice remained steady and he didn’t ever let Theon crowd him, not even when whites showed around his eyes. He kept waiting for Robb to tell him to dial it back, to cool off. If Robb wanted Theon to ease up, he kept it to himself. Just called out for faster strikes instead, threw his own hooks that Theon just managed to block. Theon might have grinned, but he didn’t have the breath for any unnecessary muscle movement. Not with the number of kicks Robb was now calling and blocking. 

Theon realized he was feeling more like himself in the same moment he realized his mouth was hanging open. His steps were heavy. Fatigue. He knew Robb must be as tired, but Robb was still meeting all of Theon’s strikes through the thai pads with just the right about of pressure. And he just kept calling out for more. Theon ignored how loudly he could hear his heartbeat whooshing in his own ears. This was what came from training without a round timer. 

Theon couldn’t do more than blink and gasp when Robb finally lowered the thai pads and pulled his arms free of the straps. 

“Water break,” Robb panted, walking off to the corner where their water bottles sat waiting. Theon followed, fumbling one glove off so he could accept the bottle Robb held out to him. He spit out his mouthguard so he could gulp down a few mouthfuls of water. He paced slowly on the mats, dragging in deep lungfuls of air for a few steps in between pulls from his water bottle. 

Robb had sunk down to the mats when he first reached their water bottles. He’d removed his own mouthguard and placed it carefully in its case. He was taking measured sips in much the same way Theon was. His eyes were bright in his flushed face, but Robb Stark was keeping his mouth shut. Theon sighed and dropped down on the mats, too. He left enough room between them so he could sprawl out. The muscles in his legs still trembled off and on, but at least his breathing had slowed. He set his water bottle aside and planted his hands on the mat to hold himself up while he leaned back. 

“Thanks, man. I needed that.” 

“My pleasure,” Robb replied with a grin. 

“How do your arms feel?” Theon asked, his voice a little rough. He returned Robb’s grin and then forced himself to breathe more deeply. 

“Like I’ll have trouble opening doors. Even automatic sliding ones.” 

Theon laughed and dropped back onto his elbows. 

“Jesus fuck!” he cried, his left elbow sliding in a sweat puddle, unbalancing him for a moment. “Guess we moved over more mat than I thought,” he joked. Robb just shook his head. 

“You know, I’m tempted to let you talk me into not wiping down the mats.” Robb smiled and added, “You know, just this once.” 

“And listen to you toss and turn all night from guilt?” Theon snorted. “My bedroom is right below yours, remember? No thanks.” 

They smiled at each other and lapsed into silence. Theon polished off his water bottle before he lay down on his back, his arms spread wide on the wrestling mats. He could picture the face Robb was pulling, watching Theon stretch out like he wasn’t risking ringworm and worse, rolling around on school wrestling mats that were older than they were combined, covered in generations of who knew what. The silence stretched though. He guessed that for Robb, it was comfortable. Theon fought back the urge to sigh. He _was_ tired though. 

“Hey. Robb? Sorry I was...” While Theon stared at the ceiling and groped for words, he left Robb nudge his nearest leg with his water bottle. It was glass and the protective silicone sleeve caught at the hairs on his thigh. 

“It was nothing, Theon. Besides, I got what I wanted. This was good training session.” 

“Even without sparring?” Theon asked, chuckling a little. 

“Even without sparring,” Robb affirmed. To his credit, Robb let at least twenty seconds of silence pass before he asked, “Something happen? 

“No,” Theon replied at once. “Not at school.” This time he did sigh. “Asha wrote me.” 

“Is she doing well? Or...” 

“She’s fine,” Theon said, frowning. “It’s just, she’s gonna be a Green Berets.” 

“What? Didn’t she _just_ become an officer or something?” He could sense Robb leaning toward him, trying to meet his gaze. 

“Yeah. She got...I don’t know, recruited. Scouted? Anyway, she’s off to Ranger School.” 

“Wait, just the school?” 

“It’s a two-month course, with a little something extra. And? She’ll pass.” He bit back a swear, feeling his stomach turning sour. “How could she _not_ pass?” 

“So...” 

“So she’ll be just like-” Theon swallowed his explosion and shook his head. His jaw muscles clenched and he ran a hand over his face. She’d said that she probably wouldn’t be able to write as much, and that she probably wouldn’t be able to call on his birthday. “She’ll be an armed thug just like everyone else in the family. Except that she’ll have a big sponsor.” He sighed. “She’ll probably die in a jungle somewhere in Central America, with no idea where she is or who she’s there to kill. She’s a fucking _idiot_.” 

_Then I really will be alone._ His birthday was only a few months away. He’d age out of the foster system, and Catelyn would be glad to finally see the last of him. He hadn’t been cute enough to land the Starks an interview about their personal commitment to philanthropy in years. Not since middle school. Theon had felt his expiration date drawing closer for weeks now. It wasn’t like the Starks had ever considered actually adopting him. _“‘He already_ has _a family, Ned.’”_

“You okay?” Robb asked finally, hesitant. 

“Yeah,” He snarled, then clenched his teeth together. Took a breath. “No.” He forced himself to sit up. When he stood, Robb rose with him. 

“I’m sorry, Theon.” Theon met Robb’s gaze. He could tell Robb wanted to say more, and knew he wouldn’t. 

“Yeah.” He nodded his head toward the locker room door. “Let’s clean up and go.” Seeing the look on Robb’s face, Theon made himself grin. “I’ll even hold all the doors for you.”


	6. Elementary school

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not easy being the youngest.

Pyke was too small to have its own public schools, so Theon was bussed out to an elementary school in a neighboring community. It was far from the lakes Theon loved, but there were other things to appreciate. He liked the hot lunches at his school. He loved gym class, and drawing, though he quickly learned not to bring any of his drawings or art class projects home. While Balon did not pay much attention to his youngest child, he made his disapproval clear with scorn. 

 

Theon liked Kindergarten. Being away from home and tucked into a cozy classroom filled with toys gave him something to look forward to on weekdays. Theon learned how it felt to earn affection from his teachers. In first grade, he learned how to win approval, with good behavior and completed worksheets. It helped that he was competitive by nature. He didn’t have close friends, as he never could have anyone over for playdates, but he could always find someone to play with during recess times. And he never ate alone.

 

It wasn’t until second grade that Theon found things he didn’t like. Soccer was a popular pastime with his peers, and most of them had been enrolled in summer camps devoted to the sport since they’d been old enough to kick a ball without falling over. Many played on teams, coached and cheered on by parents. Having no experience with the game, Theon was teased and left out of play by his peers for the first time in his life.

 

It was the only time his father had ever hit him, that Theon could remember. 

 

“I don’t want him on _my_ team. He’s slow! He _never_ knows what to do.”

 

“He’s from Iron Lake. Lakers are poor, so that’s why he can’t play.”

 

“Shut up,” Theon shouted, angry and flushed with embarrassment. 

 

“Lakers are too stupid to play soccer. Look, I’m Theon,” a boy teased, pretending to trip over the soccer ball they’d brought out for recess.

 

“I bet your dad’s stupid, too. That’s why he has to be a fisherman!” 

 

“My dad doesn’t fish! He’s the harbormaster! He’s the boss at work!”

 

“Is that why you stink like dead fish, Theon?”

 

That was the first time Theon was punished at school for behavior. Not that he’d managed to hurt any of the boys who’d taunted him, nor been hurt himself. But it was frightening to be yelled at by the principal. And he’d been so ashamed he’d nearly cried. That afternoon, Theon avoided his school bus for the first time. He couldn’t bear the thought of being trapped inside it; two of his classmates rode the same bus, though their stops were much closer to the school than Theon’s. 

 

.....

 

He was very late getting home that first time, but the only one who noticed was Asha. She’s been startled to arrive to an empty house. She took a later bus, like the other children who stayed after school for sports and activities. Asha was a fifth grader, after all, so she was permitted to play on the school sports teams, and take Karate lessons. She was used to Theon being home, waiting for her. He always followed her into the kitchen when she heated up a package of ramen or a can of ravioli for a snack. And she would often let him have a small portion, so long as he was quiet and didn’t chew with his mouth open. If she was in a particularly generous mood, Asha would even let Theon beg her into pushing him on the swing in the backyard. 

 

When she finally got it out of him that he was being bullied at school, Asha became much less generous.

 

“You have to stand up to them. Punch the biggest kid in the face. They’ll leave you alone.” Asha glared at him over her bowl of soup. She did not invite him to join her at the table, and her sudden coldness had kept him from sitting down.

 

“I’ll get in trouble,” he mumbled.

 

“So? You’ll have to stay in for a few recesses. Boo hoo.” 

 

“I don’t want to.” He squirmed uncomfortably and looked down at his feet.

 

“Ugh. You’re just afraid. You’re such a baby!” 

 

“I’m _not_ a baby!”

 

“If you don’t hit that kid who’s picking on you, I’ll never play with you again.”

 

Theon was so stunned and hurt, he’d simply stared at his sister, frozen. He clenched his jaw against the painful lump that rose in his throat.

 

“If you’re going to cry, go to your room and do it. I don’t want to hear you be a crybaby.”

 

A few weeks after that, Theon was still walking home semi-regularly. Asha refused to play or even to speak to him, apart from dinner when the family ate together. 

 

.....

 

One day, during a long weekend in the spring while the school held parent-teacher conferences, Maron and Rodrik returned home early from their work at the docks. Rodrik wandered into the backyard, sipping a beer he’d taken from the fridge. 

 

“What are you doing out here?” he’d asked, spying Theon sitting motionless on top tire swing there.

 

“Nothing,” Theon had replied defensively, surprised by his older brothers sudden appearance. He turned to look over his shoulder, uncomfortable with having Rodrik at his back. When his eyes feel on the can in his brother’s hand, Theon looked away. He knew his brother wasn’t allowed to have beer. He knew enough not so say anything about it though.

 

“Uh huh.” Rodrik smiled then, wrinkling his nose. “You don’t know how to push yourself on the swing, do you?”

 

“I do so!”

 

“So do it.”

 

“I don’t want to swing,” Theon had growled. “I just want to sit.” Rodrik only laughed and walked right up to the swing. Theon winced when his brother reached out, and then he was moving. He frowned when he realized Rodrik was pushing him on the swing. Rodrik _never_ played with him. 

 

“I said I don’t want to,” Theon told his brother, scowling. He shifted, preparing to jump down.

 

“Just shut up. I can push you.” 

 

Theon was tense while Rodrik pushed the tire swing, waiting for a trick. Getting a punch instead of a push. Being knocked right off the tire. But Rodrik only kept up the rhythm, missing a push here and there when he took a drink of his beer. 

 

It was actually nice, being there with Rodrik. With Asha refusing to have anything to do with him after school anymore, he was lonely. His grip tightened on the rope whenever Rodrik gave an especially hard push, but he laughed at the sensation of his stomach dropping. 

 

After a while, Rodrik’s hand shifted from the tire to Theon’s back. At that point, Theon didn’t mind at all. He was having a great time. He even enjoyed it when Rodrik’s had would slip up under his shirt to stroke his back. The contact made his eyes close. He could dimly remember his mother stroking his back sometimes, when he’d crawled onto the couch or into bed with her. He’d never felt so warm and safe. Her touch had made his back tingle, made his heart feel light. He loved falling asleep that way, petted and nestled against her.

 

Theon frowned when his brother’s hand abruptly disappeared his swinging began to slow. He looked back at his brother, saw that Rodrik was frowning too. He tensed, afraid of what the frown meant. Rodrik stepped up behind him when the swing stilled. He put his hand up the back of Theon’s shirt again, stroking up and down from the back of his neck to the small of his back. 

 

Theon shivered at first, then relaxed. His brother’s hand felt warm on his back, safe. And he was relishing in the attention. Rodrik could be nice sometimes, but he’d never been nice like this. And no one had cuddled or petted Theon since he’d moved from his mother’s room into his own bedroom. Balon had put his foot down. He’d even spanked his youngest child for the first time, when Theon had cried and clung to his mother.

 

Affection at home, at last, wooed Theon until he was practically sagging on the swing. He closed his eyes, basking. Until Rodrik’s hand wandered from his back around to his stomach. Theon’s shoulders hunched as he felt the tips of Rodrik’s fingers dip below the waist of his pants, traced back and forth there. Dipped lower and under the elastic of his underwear. Theon felt bad all of a sudden. His stomach felt gross, and he suddenly wanted to pee. More than anything he wanted Rodrik to stop but he couldn’t move or speak.

 

“Hey!” Rodrik ripped his hand out of Theon’s pants, jumping at the sound of Maron’s voice. Theon had twitched, too. His heart started to race. “I’ve got to go back to the docks. Dad called -- his car needs a jump. Want to come?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Rodrik had answered, moving away from Theon in a hurry. Theon waited where he was until he couldn’t hear Maron’s car anymore before he climbed off the swing.

 

He wet his bed that night. His mother hid it from Balon, but she warned him, taking his face in her hands, to never do it again. 

 

When Theon went back to school on Monday, he bloodied his classmate’s nose during the morning recess.


	7. Sibling Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon starts to build up his confidence. Rodrik...intervenes.

Theon was given an in-school suspension to spend writing an apology to his injured classmate, to his classmate’s parents, to his homeroom teacher, to his other classmates, to the school principal, and to his father, Balon. Theon wrote each apology out by hand, sitting alone in a chair outside the school secretary’s office. In addition to the single day of suspension, Theon would be spending the next month indoors during every recess period writing lines.  


He was given a notebook in which to date and record his writing. A daily prompt about right and wrong was supplied about half of the time. The other entries were based off of word lists from his teacher. Theon had to look up every word in a dictionary and copy out each and every definition given. He was supposed to have a parent or guardian sign the bottom of every page he filled, as a sign of unified expectations between school and home. Asha, Maron, and Rodrik took it in turns to forge their father’s signature. Theon’s siblings teased him ceaselessly about his school punishments, even quoting things he’d written down in the notebook. Theon forced himself to not react to his brothers or sister, though they made him feel terribly ashamed of caring about what his principal and teachers thought.  


While they didn’t let up on their teasing, each Greyjoy sibling had their own way of letting Theon know they were proud of what he’d done. Rodrik left a can of beer on Theon’s pillow once, and a candy bar another time. Theon had panicked at the first gift. For one, his father could’ve seen the beer laying out in the open and belted Theon for daring to steal it from the fridge. For another, Theon worried that Rodrik might’ve found the ax handle hidden under his pillows and taken it. After reassuring himself that his gift from Asha was still safe where he wanted it, Theon threw the beer away in the wheeled trash can kept out back by the car garage. He ate the candy bar, though he tried very hard not to think about Rodrik or that day by the lake as he ate it.  


Maron gave Theon his old boxing gloves. Maron also rigged a makeshift punching bag for him out of an old plastic water drum, wrapped around with a few padded blankets used in shipping and weighed down with a few sandbags. The punching barrel replaced Theon’s tire swing in the backyard. Once when he found his little brother swinging away at the barrel one afternoon, Maron ruffled Theon’s hair and gave him a clap on the back of his thin shoulders before going back in the house.  


Asha began to spend time with Theon in the afternoons like she had before. They watched tv. Played hide and go seek and checkers. She also gave Theon pointers for boxing: how to tie the gloves on properly, how to stand, and how to keep his wrists straight and strike with his first two knuckles only so he didn’t hurt himself. Asha even began to heat Theon a full portion of whatever she was having for a snack after school, so long as he asked first. She often commented sternly about how he needed to eat more if he wanted to get bigger and stronger, but Theon caught her smiling sometimes out of the corner of his eye while they ate in silence, side by side.

.....

Theon’s academic performance dropped off steadily, and his liking for school faded with each day he attended. He was, however, feeling a lot more confident both at school and at home. He could outrun every other boy in his class at recess, he had friends to sit with on the bus ride to and from school, and he was nearly always picked first for team games. His boxing improved as well, so much so that Asha would interrupt his solo drilling to work with him on controlled sparring. She also taught him a few kicks she’d learned doing Karate. Theon was the strongest he could ever remember feeling, and while home wasn’t perfect, he felt that he was wanted there.  


Theon was upset when his mother fell ill and had to stay in the hospital for nearly two weeks, but there was a trade off of sorts. His father tended to spend his nights at the hospital with his wife after he finished work for the day. Or he came home so late that the Greyjoy children got to enjoy dinner without his cold, brooding presence. Theon enjoyed being alone in the house with his siblings. One night, Maron brought a box of donuts home with him and they all ate those instead of regular food. Rodrik let Theon have a turn playing video games with him and Maron. Asha stayed up to watch horror movies with him after dinner, and didn’t even try to scare him.  


After one late night zombie movie, something Theon woke in the middle of the night. He sat up in bed, his eyes open to the pitch blackness of his room, his ears straining for any sound. He thought he could just hear Maron snoring down the hall. After a few moments, he settled back down under his blanket, cursing himself for acting like a little baby and trying to ignore the rushes of hot and cold he’d felt while his hair stood on end. He was nearly back asleep when he heard his door latch catch on the face plate, opening and then closing again. He froze, holding his breath.  


A little yelp of fright escaped him as a weight dropped onto the bed next to him, pining one of his arms and legs. The smell of beer washed over him, but it was his brother’s sort of amusement that made Theon’s heart skip a beat. Rodrik.  


“Scoot over,” his brother slurred. Theon scooted away from Rodrik’s touch and curled up on his side, facing away. Theon felt his stomach drop as his blanket was tugged off and away for a moment so Rodrik could crawl under next to him. The rush of cold air and the reek of alcohol made his mouth go dry. His hands were clenched under his throat, his fingers gripping the collar of his night shirt. As Rodrik shifted in the bed trying to get comfortable, Theon felt his knuckles and forehead lightly graze the rough, painted wall.  
He was trapped in his own bed, between his brother and the wall. He wondered desperately if he should just bolt for the door, and then Rodrik was pressed close, his chest against Theon’s back. He draped one arm over Theon’s waist and pulled him close.  


“Theon.” Rodrik’s voice was a whisper on the top of his head, and a jolt of fear down his spine. Theon stiffened and squeezed his eyes shut, only then remembering the ax handle Asha had given him. He would have to reach over Rodrik and under the other pillow to retrieve it. He swallowed hard and licked his lips.  


“Relax, baby brother,” Rodrik rumbled. Theon felt the dead weight of his brother’s arm lift slightly, felt his brother’s knuckles begin gently tracing the length of his sternum. There was nothing he could do to stop his heart racing, but he held his breath to stop a whimper from escaping. Something deep down told Theon that if he made a sound, Rodrik would hurt him again. Hurt him worse than last time. If he couldn’t get away first.  


Theon shuddered as Rodrik worked his hand up the front of Theon’s nightshirt. His brother’s fingers were hot on his bare chest, tracing his ribs, inscribing slow circles lower and lower on his stomach, over his pajama pants. Tears started to gather in the corners of his eyes, but he stayed quiet while Rodrik’s fingers slipped into his pants, his huge, scorching palm resting briefly on Theon’s hip, over his underwear. His body was a block of wood, and his thoughts raced. He had to get away. He had to get the ax!  


He gasped when Rodrik suddenly shoved his hand down the front of Theon’s underwear, and stoked there. His breath shook and he covered his eyes with his palms. He couldn’t think. _No no no no no._ Theon squirmed as Rodrik began to work his pajama bottoms and underwear down his thighs. _Please. Don’t._  


“R-r-rodrik?” he whispered, his voice straining around the lump in his throat. In an instant, Rodrik’s hand was clamped hard over his mouth.  


“Keep your fucking mouth _shut_.” Theon froze, then gave the smallest of nods. He felt Rodrik grip slowly ease, fall away from his mouth. He felt Rodrik sit up, sway, and grab hold of Theon’s thigh to regain his balance. _AX!_ his brain cried as he felt his brother rip the blanket away, fumble with tugging Theon’s pants and underwear off.  


Theon turned abruptly from the wall, twisting around to face Rodrik. He didn’t flinch when he felt his clothes come away, or when he heard Rodrik swear in surprise. He reached around where Rodrik sat, his fingers scrambling under the pillows for the ax handle. For an instant, he brushed something cool and solid with the backs of his flailing fingers. Then he jumped at the sudden and loud knock of wood on wood. He’d accidentally pushed the handle over the edge of the mattress. There was no way he’d be able to reach all the way down between the headboard and the mattress to the floor.  


Then a weight fell solidly across his back, squashing Theon face down on his bed, squeezing the air from his lungs, and wrenching the arm he had caught between the headboard and mattress. He forgot the ax and struggled wildly to get out from under Rodrik. All at once, the weight vanished and am arm seized him around the middle and dragged him further down the mattress. Theon yelped and tried to scramble away on his hands and knees, kicked and punched when hands grabbed for him. He heard a grunt, and then pain lit up the right side of his face. Theon was dimly aware of the room spinning as Rodrik threw him back to the center of the bed. He was flipped face down before he could tell which way was up, and saw stars burst behind his eyelids as Rodrik clapped a hand on the back of his neck. Rodrik tightened his grip and pressed Theon’s face down into the mattress, muffling his terrified cries, pinning him in place.  


Theon didn’t see Rodrik shove his own pants down, didn’t hear Rodrik spit into his palm. His scream caught in his throat when Rodrik thrust into him.  


.....  


When Rodrik finally groaned and collapsed next to him, Theon was all cried out. He felt something wet trickling between his legs, but everything hurt too much for him to care if it was piss or blood. He couldn’t do more than blink when he felt Rodrik’s hand on his back.  


“Atta boy,” Rodrik panted, giving Theon a few gentle strokes down his sweat-covered back. In that moment, unable to will his limbs to work, Theon prayed and prayed as he pictured an ancient, powerful demon curled in blackness at the bottom of Iron Lake.  


_Drowned God, let me die. Please. Please._


	8. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath. And Theon can't hide everything that Rodrik did.

“Theon?” 

When he woke up, the sky was just beginning to lighten. Rodrik was gone. For the longest time all Theon could do was stare at his window, watch as black shifted to purples and greys. He recognised when it was time to rise, to get ready for school. He could see the fitted sheet under him had turned from pale grey to gold. He thought about getting up, but he was afraid to feel...how he was hurt. It felt like dying, before. 

Keeping still and quiet, Theon’s whole body only felt cold and hollowed out. There was one exception, and even letting his mind wander close to that... He could feel a humming build in his ears, feel his stomach knot. Theon made a fist and bit down on his knuckles. Cold was nothing. He could keep still all day if he had to. 

Except...he needed to pee. The urge was a tickle at first, and he prayed that he would just fall back asleep. The tickle began a pulsing. The pulsing became an ache, an ache that made him that made his muscles clench. He gasped, felt tears spill even though he closed his eyes tightly. 

He could picture himself rising, wincing with pain as he stood and walked out of his room. The best he could manage, after praying for he didn’t know what, was rising to his elbows. He bit his lip and steeled himself, then pushed up onto his knees. Theon whimpered as he worked his way to the edge of the bed and then let his body collapse there, struggling to catch his breath. 

He pushed his thoughts away, let his breathing slow, felt his tears stop. With his cheek resting on the mattress, Theon scanned the floor for his blanket. It was crumpled there, just out of reach. Never wanted so much to bury his face in its plush, black folds. His fingers twitched with memory as the gold satin trim seemed to glow brighter before his eyes. He ached to have it, to be able to block out the world and be wrapped up close in his own scent. For a moment, he felt the impulse to put his thumb in his mouth. The habit was one his siblings had helped him break long ago, with painful, sharp pinches whenever they caught him at it. 

What finally made him move was the sound of a door, of footsteps, and then of the bathroom door down the hall. Asha. He lifted his head, feeling his heart beat harder. His door didn’t lock. None of the doors locked. How could he keep her out? If she saw... 

Theon swallowed back a cry as he moved his legs off the edge of the bed. He bit his lip when he sat up, but he shook with a whimper all the same. He had to get up. Asha would only be in the bathroom long enough to brush her teeth and comb her hair. And then? She’d come to wake him up. Even if he was already awake and just lying in bed, waiting for the rituals of his mornings play out. 

He braced his hands on the mattress to either side of his legs. As he levered himself up and off the bed, he caught sight of red, smeared on the insides of his thighs. He staggered, but didn’t fall. He closed his eyes again and clapped his own hands over his mouth. The loud humming started up in his ears again. _I’m dying. I’m dead._

“Theon?” He jumped at Asha’s voice, at her knock on his door. His arms hung limp at his sides, his face crumpled. 

“Go away.” He’d meant it to be a shout, but his voice was raspy, cracked on the second word. 

“Theon,” Asha sounded bored rather than exasperated. “Get up. School.” And then he heard her padding away, heading back along the landing and down the stairs to the kitchen. 

..... 

After stumbling away, then to, then away again from door, his brain scrabbling frantically for a way out, Theon glanced back at his bed. And froze. There was something, a stain, on his bright gold sheets. He staggered until he’d backed into his bedroom door. _God...drowned god..._

It was blood. His own blood. From...from what Rodrik... 

Theon felt his mouth begin to water, his stomach to buck. Forgetting he was naked and bloody, he whirled and pulled his door open, throwing himself down the hallway toward the bathroom. Saliva gushed into his mouth, and though he held a hand over his mouth, Theon heaved before he reached the bathroom. There wasn’t anything to come up, but he scrambled frantically to reach the toilet, gagging and heaving again and again. 

“Theon?” He didn’t hear Asha calling until she was just outside the bathroom. 

“No,” he wailed, still bent over the toilet bowl and unable to let go of the only anchor left to him as the world spun. 

“God beneath!” Asha exclaimed, backing out and shutting the door with a bang as she realized Theon was naked. “Are you okay? Theon?” 

“Asha!” Maron’s voice was an angry growl from his bedroom. Asha and Theon twitched at the exact same moment in response, on either side of the closed bathroom door. The two youngest Greyjoys waited in silence for three breaths. No other words issued from behind Maron’s door. Asha opened the backroom door a crack, but she didn’t look in. 

“Theon?” she hissed. 

“I...” Snot and tears were streaming down Theon’s face as he stared into the little pool of water before him. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I...” Theon hiccuped, gagged again. “I threw up,” he replied once he could, trying to keep his voice low. 

“I’ll...tell them you’re sick. It’s okay.” Asha sounded worried and Theon wanted to sob when he didn’t hear her footsteps heading reassuringly away. 

_Just go_ , he thought desperately. _Leave!_

“Theon, can I... Do you need anything?” 

“N-no. I’m okay, Asha. Don’t come in,” he whimpered softly, tears still streaming down his cheeks. 

”Just...don’t worry, okay?” She sighed, but didn’t push. “I’ll take care of school, and I’ll come home on the early bus. Clean yourself up and go back to bed.” Theon knew Asha was waiting, but he couldn’t think of anything safe to say back. After a few moments, he heard her move away, retreat downstairs. School buses didn’t wait for anyone, after all. ..... 

Theon flushed the toilet and hobbled back to his room, knowing it wouldn’t be too long before Rodrik and Maron got up for work. The first thing he did back in room was pull on a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. When he finished dressing, the brown smears on his bedsheets drew his eyes and Theon shuddered. He had to get rid of it. 

Theon pulled the fitted bedsheet off his mattress, bundled it under one arm, and walked slowly out of his room. He crept to the stairs, his ears straining for any sound that could mean his brothers were waking up. Hearing nothing, Theon started downstairs, wincing from little stabs of pain as he stepped down and down. Before he’d really thought out what needed to happen to his ruined sheet, he was already opening the back door and heading for the wheeled trashcan by the garage. Theon made sure to push the little golden bundle as deep into the trashcan as he could reach, and he shifted other garbage onto his sheet to hide it. 

Back upstairs, Theon realized he would have to leave his bedroom door open and hide in his closet. When he left for school he always left his door open, and he _needed_ Rodrik and Maron to think he was gone. He hadn’t really thought anything of it before, leaving his room so open. He put his blanket back on his mattress though he doubted, and hoped, that his brothers wouldn’t look so closely. 

Half-buried in a pile of dirty clothes, Theon tried to keep his breathing slow and even. Though it made the hairs on his neck and arms prickle, he left the closet door open a crack so he could hear better. He tried not to think while listened to his brothers plod through their morning routines. He heard the water pipes whine as Maron got into the shower, just down the hall. Recognised Rodrik’s cough as he thumped downstairs. Theon hugged himself and closed his eyes. 

He listened and drowsed lightly. Heard the fridge door open and close downstairs. Heard the buzz of an electric razor. Picked out his brother’s voices while they talked briefly in the kitchen. The back door opened and slammed shut. Maron’s car revved, quieted. And then he was alone. 

Theon climbed slowly out of his hiding place, wincing, and crawled into his bed. He pulled his blanket tightly around himself, curled into a ball on his side, and whimpered. 

..... 

Hours later, he woke up to the sound of footfalls on the stairs, feeling sleepy, warm, and sore. 

“Theon? Hey, Theon?” Asha’s voice was soft, but Theon felt his stomach give a frightened leap anyway. He tugged his blanket more snugly around his head, stayed curled up on his side facing the wall rather than the door. 

“Yeah?” he mumbled, wondering why she had come into his room. Wondering suddenly if the ax handle was visible, sticking out from under his bed on the floor. Did she know? He bit back a groan. 

“Hey. Feeling okay?” He held his breath rather than answer, feeling a sharp, familiar tightness in his throat. “Better, maybe?” Asha ventured. Theon’s shoulders shook when he breathed out, so he took another breath before he tried to talk. 

“It hurts,” he said simply, his eyes burning with tears. 

“I’ll go get you something for that, okay?” He flinched when Asha set her hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t cry out. Mercifully, she didn’t wait for an answer. 

..... 

“Here, sit up, Theon. Tylenol and water for you.” 

Her tone was more coaxing than anything. He shifted under his blanket, rubbed his foot up the back of his calf, hunched his shoulders. He didn’t want to see her. Didn’t want Asha to see him. He could feel his stomach turning. He didn’t feel sick, just...gross. And torn. He didn’t know which was worse, her standing over him while his back was turned, or pulling down the covers and turning to face her. 

“I want you to take this.” Asha said, firmly this time. “Come on.” 

“Okay.” Theon rolled onto his other side and stuck his arm out from beneath his blanket, palm cupped for whatever pills she’d brought. 

“If you don’t sit up right now I’ll dump this water all over your-” Her threat trailed off as he peeled his blanket back off his face. He worked his way up, first onto his elbows, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from yelping. He grimaced when he scooted backward, propping himself up against his headboard. 

Theon held out his hand again, but when nothing happened for several seconds, he risked a glance up at his sister’s face. She was staring at him, wide-eyed, the cup of water and pills she held forgotten. 

“Theon, what happened to your face?” He flinched and looked away at her appalled tone. 

“Nothing,” he mumbled, plucking at his blanket nervously, still avoiding her gaze. “I threw up.” 

“Theon, you’re...” Asha knelt down beside his bed. Theon heard the water glass clink against the floorboards. His stomach turned over as he thought about the ax handle again, pictured Asha’s knee bumping against it. Then he felt her fingers catch under his chin and lift his face up. He kept his eyes closed, bit down on his lower lip. 

“I didn’t do anything,” he protested weakly, not quite daring to pull his face away. 

“Then how did you get this?” She asked, her fingers shifting from his chin, the pads of her fingers pressing against his right cheekbone. 

“Quit,” Theon hissed, jerking away from her hand as pain throbbed in his face. 

“Tell me what happened.” 

“I told you, nothing,” he said, opening his eyes to meet her gaze. 

“You got your face bruised up on nothing?” Theon felt his stomach drop out of his body. Bruised? 

“I...when I threw up, I think I fell.” He looked down and fought the urge to cringe. 

“You fell?” Her tone made a chill run up the back of his neck. 

“Yeah. I hit my head. I’m okay. Doesn’t even hurt.” 

Asha sighed. “Why are you lying to me, Theon?” 

“I’m not, I just _fell_ , okay? I’m fine.” He tried to glare at her, to yell, but his lower jaw trembled. 

“Well, if you’re fine then you won’t need these.” 

Theon was still tensed, waiting for a blow to fall when Asha slammed his door shut behind her and stomped back downstairs. He blinked and looked down. There was a little oval spot of white on his blanket. And another. He retrieved the Tylenol with shaking fingers and popped them into his mouth. He leaned over the edge of the bed and groped for water she’d brought. 

Theon nearly choked washing the pills down while tears built up in his eyes. She hadn’t wanted to hit him. He forced himself to gulp down all the water before he set the empty glass back down on the floor. Before he wriggled back down onto the bed, pulled his blanket back over his head. He turned onto his stomach and cried into his pillow until he fell asleep again.


	9. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asha realizes the ax handle isn't going to be enough.

Asha was waiting in the backyard when Maron’s call pulled up the drive. Rodrik was halfway out of the passengers seat before the car was in park. Rodrik didn’t even spare Asha a glance before he headed into the house, letting the back screen door slam shut behind him. _Dad’s going to_ murder _you_ , she thought grimly. There were only two cans of beer left in the fridge. 

“What’s up?” Maron got out of the car, but he didn’t close his door. He leaned forward against the car, his crossed arms resting on the hood. 

“Give me a ride.” When his eyes narrowed, Asha scowled and tugged open the passenger door Rodrik had vacated moments before. “If you want dinner? We need groceries.” 

“Shit.” Maron muttered, shaking his head, but he was already lowering himself back into the driver's seat. His door slammed shut a beat after Asha’s. 

He backed out of the driveway and started driving back the way he’d come. As the houses thinned out on either side of the road, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and shook one out into his mouth. 

“So...” He broke off, trading his pack for a lighter. He took a slow, deep drag as he lit it. He breathed out and cracked his window. “Mom should get out of the hospital tomorrow. Maybe Friday.” 

“Dad tell you that?” Asha asked, surprised enough by his conversation starter to hold back the questions that had been boiling in her stomach since she left Theon in his room. 

“Mom sure as shit didn’t.” Maron glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. Asha only shrugged in response, then steeled herself. 

“Something’s wrong. With Theon.” Asha’s voice was level and she deliberately kept her eyes staring ahead at the road. 

“What’d the little prick do this time?” He sounded irritated -- a bit sulky about not getting to kick back and have a drink after work. 

“That’s just it. Theon says he didn’t do _anything_.” 

“Asha,” Maron took his cigarette out of his mouth and flicked ash out the window. He kept his smoke in his fingers and rested his hand loosely back on the steering wheel. He turned his head to look at his sister. “The fuck you talking about?” he asked coldly, his gaze glancing to check the road for a moment, then resettling on Asha. 

“Did you do it?” she spat, her face twisting into a snarl. She wanted to punch him in the face, lean over and hang on the wheel, take them both into a tree. 

“Do _what_?” he asked, louder this time. 

“You _know_ what, god drown you!” She bit her lip, fighting to keep her temper. She needed to be sure, couldn’t just let the world go red. Not yet. “Are you doing to Theon what you did to me?” 

“What?” His yell didn’t even get Asha to blink. 

“Fuck you, Maron. Are you hurting him? Are you creeping into his room at night, brother dear? Are you holding him down so you can f-” The car swerved as Maron hit the brakes. Asha caught the dashboard, just avoiding a broken nose. Maron had stopped in the gravel off the road, just shy of where the gravel turned into grass and ditch. She barely had time to register what happened before Maron lunged at her. 

Asha coughed reflexively when her brother’s fingers closed around her throat, her hands going automatically to his wrists. She glared back into his face while she noisily dragged in air against his grip. 

“What are you talking about?” he growled, his fingers squeezing as he give Asha a shake. 

“Did you?” she wheezed, not bothering to fight, to try and pry his fingers off. He’d always been stronger. “Are you?” 

Maron tightened his grip until Asha gagged in her throat, her gaze softening, unfocused. He shoved her away, hard enough that she slammed into her door, the side of her head cracking against her closed window. 

“No,” he snapped, breathing hard. 

“You...?” Asha coughed, gasped. 

“I didn’t touch him.” Maron shifted in his seat, just remembering his cigarette. He sighed through his nose and and ran one hand back through his hair. “What the fuck, Asha?” 

“If y-” she coughed but resisted the urge to massage her throat. “If you aren’t hurting him, someone is. I know that look.” Her eyes narrowed as she watched Maron’s face. There was a tension in the lines around his mouth. Asha gritted her teeth together, tugging a handful hair on either of her head. “You knew. You _knew_!” She groaned and closed her eyes. “Rodrik?” she asked, feeling sick. 

Maron pulled the keys out of the ignition and stared out the windshield. At the road, at where the ground dipped and fell away into a ditch, at the thin stands of trees hardy enough to survive in a place flooded for half of the year. Asha opened her eyes and turned her head to stare at him. She watched his lips as he confirmed her guess. 

“Yeah. He is.” 

“Maron. He’ll kill Theon,” Asha began, her voice sounding less strained now when she spoke. She shook her head when her brother said nothing, continuing to stare at him. “You have to stop him.” 

“What do you want me to do?” he asked with a laugh, incredulous. 

“Rodrik listens to you.” She scowled when Maron raised an eyebrow at her. “He _does_ ,” she insisted. “Get him to stop.” 

“How? Find him a girlfriend?” Maron ran the car keys through his fingers. 

“Whatever, just do it,” she pressed, the anger in her voice belying the fear in her eyes. “Maron, please. Not Theon.” Seeing the lines deepening around his eyes, the way he pressed his lips together, she reached out. Her hand didn’t tremble when she set it on Maron’s thigh. 

“Do this for me,” she said softly, lowering her gaze and sliding her hand lightly down his inner thigh. Maron didn’t twitch, but she heard the way his breath caught. 

“What- Asha-” Maron fell silent as Asha moved her hand along his inner thigh to his crotch, following the inseam of his jeans. 

“You want me.” She pressed her palm against him, traced her thumb back and forth along the line where his leg met his groin. She let her nails catch on the denim as she gently, slowly trailed her hand back down his leg, and then back up. “This is me saying you can have what you want.” 

Maron seized her wrist, squeezed until her bones rubbed against each other. She raised her eyes to his face. Letting him have her wrist, she leaned into him brushed her lips across the stubble on his jawline, mouthed at the side of his neck. She left it when tilted his head away, exposing his throat, and she obliged, tracing lines there with her tongue. His grip slackened on her wrist until she could reached across him, over the side of his seat. She lifted the release lever and they both slid abruptly back from the steering wheel, both jerking to a stop with a metallic clang as the driver’s seat locked into place at farthest point on the seat tracks. 

Asha pulled away from him slowly, falling back into her seat where she kicked out of her own jeans. She leaned over him again, braced herself with one hand on his door as she straddled his lap. She put her mouth on his, drew his tongue into her own mouth while her fingers worked at his belt, then his jeans. She smiled inwardly as Maron’s hands settled, tentatively at first, on her hips. He was hard when she unzipped his fly and slipped a hand down the front of his boxers. His breath hitched for a moment. And then she was breathing in only what he breathed out. 

Maron’s hand snaked up the back of her shirt. She kept her hair short, just shy of her shoulders, but his fingers found it anyway, twined there and grabbed. She bit back a laugh when he slowly forced her head back, took him up in one hand and began to stroke. With her free hand she reached behind her back and up, fingers tickling the muscles of Maron’s arm, then unhooking her own bra. She felt Maron’s body shudder beneath her. He tugged back harder on her hair. The fingers of his other hand were digging painfully into her hip. 

Asha coaxed his hand from her hip, guided his thick, calloused fingers up to her lips. 

“Tell Rodrik,” she whispered, breathing faster, high in her chest. She drew his first two fingers into her mouth, biting and then sucking at them, running her tongue around them, up and down the length of them. Her other hand still worked his shaft, slow and steady. 

“Yes,” he whispered back, his voice rough. He groaned when she took his hand, moving his fingers from her mouth down between her legs. She only let go of his hand to pull the crotch of her underwear off to one side. 

“Not Theon,” she breathed, thrusting forward with her hips so his wet fingers bumped against her slit. He slid his fingers into her and she gasped, trembled. Asha heard him groan again, felt his grip on her hair slacken, his hand drifting to the small of her back, trying to draw her close. She tensed, holding her body back from his. Maron’s fingers slipped out of her and she could look down, see him again. His eyes were glazed, his mouth hanging open. With both arms around her, he tried pull her onto him. 

“Not Theon?” she said again, not giving an inch. 

“Yes. Not Theon,” he repeated, grunting. “Asha...” 

“That’s a promise then?” She allowed herself a smile as Maron gasped, his eyes closing tight as she took in the full length of him and held for a moment. “Your promise, big brother?” 

Maron groaned and nodded.


	10. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon tries to keep it together. (Sorry this chapter's so short!)

Theon didn’t feel so close to his mother. He hadn’t in a long time. It hurt to love her too much. Love for her made his eyes and nostrils burn, made his palms feel cold, made him too quiet and small around the house. It was better to feel anything else. With Maron, Rodrik, and Asha around, all with varying degrees of loathing for sniveling of any kind and all with a myriad of humiliating, painful means of discouraging it. Theon learned fast it was better to forget his mother, better to feel anything else. He needed them, after all. His brothers and sister. Without them, he’d be all alone. There wouldn’t be anyone for him to love.

Though he could’ve slept in, he hadn’t been able to lie still since the sky outside his window began to lighten. So here he was. Saturday morning. No school. Just staring out his bedroom window. His father hadn’t come home Friday night. Theon assumed it was because he would be bringing the mother of his children home as early as possible. Maron had said mother was coming home. Theon wasn’t stupid enough to think that she would be better, but she would be home. Somehow, that felt better than her _not_ being at home. 

He’d been waiting and watching once there was light enough to see by. Waiting to see his father’s car appear in the driveway and pull into the garage. He’d only left his post to sneak downstairs and grab a packet of pop-tarts before anyone else woke up. Theon wanted to be left alone, and to wait. The only safe place to do that was his room. He couldn’t deal with taunts from Rodrik. Or Asha. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, waiting for the shudder to leave his shoulders. He would not think about Wednesday. Would not remember. He pushed back the urge to pee. 

Theon stood abruptly, crossed to his bed and tore the ax handle from its hiding place beneath his pillow. He clutched it tightly in one hand and went back to his window. He squeezed the handle as hard as he could and stared out the window. His hand shook and ached. The skin under his fingernails burned. The pain drew him slowly, steadily back. When he could breathe again, he set the ax handle on his window sill. He licked his lips, swallowed, and made himself take another bite of his second pop-tart.

.....

He was shifting his weight from foot to foot, grimacing every few seconds. The sun was higher now. Not so much that he expected to hear anyone in the house waking up. He wished his parents would get home. He’d been convincing himself that he could hold it. Theon hadn’t had anything to drink, so shouldn’t _need_ to go. He would wait until his father’ car appeared. It couldn’t be much longer.

A sharp stab of pain below his belly made him gasp, locked his muscles. He’d been so surprised he nearly pissed himself, right there. He ran his fingers over the ax handle and bit his lip. Theon knew he was being stupid, and that there was nothing to be afraid of. He hadn’t seen Rodrik since... He shook his head. If Rodrik was home, he was keeping to himself. Theon was, too. Another jolt of pain almost made him double up. He couldn’t hide forever.

He decided to leave the ax handle where it was. If he was ever going to use it? He didn’t want his brother to see it coming.

Theon’s bedroom was the farthest away from the bathroom, all the way down the landing. His parents’ room and Maron’s room were at the other end of the second floor, closest to the stairs. The bathroom was a visible line, separating the room Balon occupied from the rooms of his children. Theon moved as quickly as he could without either wetting his pajamas or making a noise his siblings might hear. He shut the bathroom door behind him quietly, barely made it to the toilet, and groaned as he emptied his bladder. He was basking in the relief of the moment when he heard it.

Theon could feel each swallow of pop-tart shift uncomfortably in his stomach, bubbling there. He pulled up his pajama bottoms and tied the drawstring tightly, his fingers fumbling in his haste. He heard it again and froze, hand halfway to the toilet level. His throat went tight. He shivered, wishing he’d stayed in his room. He heard it again. A low moan, and then also a bed frame creaking. It made the hairs on his neck and arms stand on end. 

Needing something - anything - to block out the sound long enough for him to run back down the landing, he flushed the toilet so forcefully he threw himself off balance. He windmilled his arms to catch himself and then headed for the door; it no longer mattered if he was noisy, if anyone knew he was awake. He hurried back down the hallway, wincing as he walked past Rodrik’s door. He hesitated in front of Asha’s door a moment. Suddenly he wanted to see her. He wanted to throw her door open and jump up on her bed. But she hadn’t spoken to him since she brought him the tylenol. 

Theon reached out for Asha’s door, to do he didn’t know what, when he heard the faint whine that only Maron’s door made. He started and turned, shoulders hunched and head down, caught. But the face he saw staring back at him from his brother’s doorway wasn’t Maron’s. Or Rodrik’s.

His mouth fell open and he staggered sideways. _No! Not you..._

It didn’t hurt, feeling his stomach drop down to his feet, but the back, sucking space left behind did. Theon suddenly wished he’d thought to put on a hoodie before leaving his room. And socks. And sweatpants over his pajamas. He shivered, watched his sister’s mouth form a curse. The questions rising in his mind made his eyes run over.

Theon gave a squeak of horror and darted for his room, slamming the door behind him.


	11. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday fun day for Theon and Robb.

_Bang, bang, bang._  


Theon sat up immediately, gasping and blinking in the darkness. His heart hammered against his ribs. He felt groggy, confused. Not ready for--  


“Hey Theon!”  


“Robb?” Theon croaked, rubbing a hand over his face. He gave a shaky sigh of relief and shoved away the old dream, scowling at the heavy, creeping feeling that always made him feel sick to his stomach. He collapsed back onto his pillows and rolled over. “Go away, Stark,” he called, dragging his comforter over his head and wrapping it tightly around himself. He’d discovered years ago that a little pressure -- or a few extra layers of clothes -- always helped, let his panicked slow enough that he could get himself back under control. At least he’d slept in boxers.  


“Get up already!” Robb waited a beat, then knocked on the door again.  


“I’m going to kill you.” Theon’s growl was muffled by his blankets and pillows.  


“You’d have to catch me first. And, you know, get out of bed.”  


“Hey.” Theon pulled his blanket off his face, frowning. “What day is it?”  


“Sunday.” Though he couldn’t see Robb’s face, he knew that his foster brother was smirking proudly on the other side of the door.  


“What time is it?” he asked, sitting up slowly. He wasn’t going back to sleep now.  


“They left for church fifteen minutes ago.” Theon didn’t have time to draw breath before Robb spoke up again. “Can I come in?” He sounded exasperated and pleased.  


“Robb Stark.” Theon shook his head and frowned deeply while Robb stood in the open doorway, beaming in his pajamas. “Playing hookey from the Lord to hang out with a godless savage?” Theon chuckled when Robb rolled his eyes.  


“Pretty sure my soul can survive it. I'll pray extra hard tomorrow. C’mon, this is the last long weekend we get until the end of the school year. Let’s go.”  


“Go?” Theon threw back his blankets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He rubbed at the sleep in his eyes. “Won’t you get caught if we go anywhere?”  


“There’s a social in the Tully center after morning mass today.” Theon marveled that Robb’s smile could grow larger than it already was. “Mom’s got everyone volunteered for something. She said not to expect them until after lunch, but to call if I need anything.”  


“Hey,” Theon cocked his head at Robb.  


Robb raised an eyebrow.  


“How long have you been planning this?” He got to his feet and stretched while Robb merely shrugged. Theon snorted and headed for his dresser.  


“Wanna go play in the park?” Robb asked, all innocence. Theon paused, his hand falling away from a dresser drawer handle and back to his side.  


“Whatever it takes to get you to shut up.” When Robb laughed he couldn’t hold back a smile. Theon leaned down and tugged open the bottom drawer. There was a mess of basketball trunks heaped on one side (‘It’s not like they get wrinkled, why fold them?’) and a pile of folded t-shirts on the other. Theon had just finished pulling on his shirt -- a grey cotton tee with a stenciled guitar spray painted in black on the front -- when something small hit him between the shoulder blades and dropped to the floor with the soft crinkle of a wrapper.  


“Breakfast,” Robb said helpfully before he trotted for the stairs to go get dressed in his own room. “Five minutes!”  
Theon scooped up the protein bar and tore it open, holding it in his mouth while he danced into his basketball trunks. Trust Robb to have thought of everything, Theon thought, smiling as he chewed.  


.....  


It felt good to train early in the day, for all that Theon grumbled for most of the five blocks they walked from the house to the public park. There were kids on the playground, their parents drinking coffee on nearby benches. A two-on-two pick up game was in progress on the half-court they passed. Theon and Robb found an empty stretch of grass between the perimeter sidewalk of the park and the vacant softball field. A pair of maple trees shaded them from the morning sun. 

They ran through the usual: footwork drills, shadow boxing, partner work. They only did a little low-contact sparring since they’d left their gear at home. They had a fun time debating who they thought would win each match on the upcoming PPV fight card, and trying to walk-through some of the wilder knockouts they’d seen on the last mma fight night.  
The temperature climbed steadily with the sun, and they decided to call it quits when were both soaked with sweat and out of water. Instead of starting up their usual cool down stretches, Theon tapped Robb’s shoulder with the back of his hand and nodded at the park wading pool. A pair of mothers with toddlers were just strollering away, leaving the fenced pool area temporarily unoccupied. As one, the boys grabbed their water bottles and started for the pool.  


.....  


“After you, your highness,” Theon teased, lifting the latch and holding the safety gate open for the both of them with one hip. Robb rolled his eyes and took a jab at Theon’s ribs as he walked past; Theon swatted away the light strike easily. They headed over to the nearest bench, but Theon only set his water bottle there. Where Robb sat down to untie and loosen his shoelaces, Theon simply kicked free of his own sneakers. He hadn’t touched his laces since he’d bought the shoes, if he ever had. He tossed his socks near his shoes, leaving them bunched and inside out. As an afterthought, he tugged his shirt off and tossed it at his shoes. It hit the ground with a wet smack that made Robb look up suddenly and then wrinkle his nose.  


Theon padded barefoot across the concrete, stepped over the knee-high wall, and splashed into the wading pool. The water wasn’t exactly cold, but it was refreshing enough on his feet and calves. Walking slowly around the pool, enjoying the resistance of the water, Theon could almost lose himself. He felt less grimey, less tired. The water sounds pushed back the summer heat; the cries of tired muscles; the sounds of cars lining up in traffic, then driving away with the light, and then lining up all over again. Two soft plunks told him Robb had joined him.  


“Do...” Robb took so long to continue that Theon glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you’ll get a job?” He asked it in a rush and avoided Theon’s gaze. Robb was the only one he’d told about having no plans to go to college  


“Have to, won’t I? ‘Eighteen and out the door.’” Theon watched Robb bite his lower lip and wished he hadn’t said anything. It was Catelyn, and Ned, he was angry with. Not Robb.  


“I, well, I just meant,” Robb stammered. “Will you work around here?”  


“Pretty sure I won’t be able to afford an apartment around here. But yeah,” he added hurriedly, seeing the lines creasing Robb’s forehead. “I’ll be around. Never said I wouldn’t visit, either.” Catelyn never said he couldn’t. Not that he planned to. “Haven’t really thought about anywhere else I’d go,” he admitted. He didn’t mention Iron Lake, and neither did Robb.  


He sighed, wishing they were talking about something else. Generally, Theon tried not to think about the end of his senior year of high school and how it was drawing closer by the day. Not that he hadn’t done anything about it. He’d applied for a few jobs, downtown and at nearest mall. Nothing that paid particularly well, but they were all summer jobs that promised to become more if he stuck around long enough.  


“Will you still train with me ever?”  


“Robb,” he laughed, feeling his stomach give a disconcerting little flip. “I’m moving out, not leaving the country. Won’t be too long and you’ll be out of there, too.”  


“Yeah, I know.” Robb sighed, staring down at his feet.  


“Hey.” Theon kicked an arc of water at Robb. “I’m starving. Food?” Not waiting for an answer, he started splashing to the far side of the wading pool, where their things were.  


“Theon?”  


“Yeah?” He slowed at the sound in Robb’s voice and turned to look at him, but he hadn’t stopped moving. When Robb slammed into him, he wished he had stopped. And braced himself. The hug made him stagger and he nearly fell over in the water, but Robb held onto him solidly. Theon stood frozen for a long moment, holding his arms out awkwardly and staring down at the curly head buried in his shoulder. He tingled everywhere Robb’s bare arms rested against the skin of his sides and back. A part of him wanted to laugh, to shove Robb away. Maybe even dunk his head under once or twice.  


“Robb.” Theon shifted uneasily, was suddenly worried about the passing cars, about being seen. He could feel Robb’s arms tighten around him in response.  


“I love you, Theon.”  


Theon felt like he was simultaneously being crushed by Robb on the outside, and smothered by whatever was swelling up inside his chest. There wasn’t room for any air. Not that he could’ve gotten anything past the hard lump lodged in his throat. He slowly drew his arms around Robb, hugged him back. The stiffness flowed out from his neck until he resting his chin on the top of Robb’s head. He closed his eyes and couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d ever felt so good.


	12. Happy Easter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon's in denial. Jon's got a proposition.
> 
> For your listening pleasure: https://youtu.be/YMdhWRO4-dQ

Thank the God for the stupid Catholics and their stupid fucking holy days, Theon thought, yawning as he walked downstairs. To have a sleep-in on a Friday _and_ an empty house all to himself? Made the pastel eggs and rabbit figurines festooned around the house almost palatable. Not that the Starks would be gone _all_ day. It wasn’t even an actual mass they were attending, supposedly. But they were staying after whatever the service was, for some community meal in the church center. It would be meatless and the company would reek of self-righteousness, no doubt.

Theon fetched the milk out of the fridge and opened the jug. He took a sip, debating whether or not to have a bowl of cereal. He heard a sound that made him turn. He raised an eyebrow at Jon, hovering in the dining room and just visible through the kitchen door. He was already dressed, jeans and one of Theon’s hand-me-down band shirts. It was a Nirvana, faded black, and made to look vintage. Theon snorted, then took another drink of milk. 

“You’re actually here.” Theon wiped his mouth off on the back of his free hand, lowered the milk jug with the other but didn’t put it away. He stepped away from the fridge and let the door swing shut. He raised the jug to his lips and took a long drink. Then he sighed contentedly. “Will wonders never cease?” After a moment of consideration, he offered the milk to Jon. Jon only shook his head. 

“Well they’re gone, aren’t they.” Jon’s grip shifted on the newspaper in his hand, rustling the pages. For a moment, Theon thought he might tuck tail and run. He’d always figured that was what had attracted his fellow Stark foster to the track team. Instead, Jon tucked a lock of still damp hair behind one ear and bit his lower lip. 

“Thought you’d be at work.” 

“I worked Christmas and New Year’s,” Jon replied, shrugging. 

“So you thought you’d have a long Easter weekend. Catholic guilt catch up with you?” 

“I’m as much a Catholic as you,” Jon muttered, eyes narrowing. 

“Not true.” Theon closed his eyes and turned his head away, lifting his nose in the air. “One of us managed to avoid that whole baptism thing.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been here longer, fine,” Jon spat, the newspaper crinkling as his fingers tightened around it. “But I’ll be out soon enough, same as you.” 

“Mrs. Catelyn Stark, charitable patron of castaway boys. Even if people heard the truth, the devout of 7th Parish would only love her more.” Theon’s smile was nasty. “God-fearing wife, devoted mother, and honest fosterer. When she kicks us out, she’ll be nothing short of steadfast. How else would we learn to be disciplined, productive citizens?” He looked down at the jug in his hand, gave the milk in it a swirl, scowling. 

“...Theon? I--” 

“Get lost, would you? You’re ruining my breakfast.” 

“You’re such an asshole. Can’t you just...” Jon looked away and took a breath. “Look, I wanted to--” 

“I don’t need help job hunting.” Theon spat, sneering at the listings visible on the folded pages of local newsprint. “Thanks but no thanks, Snow.” He turned on his heel to stalk out of the kitchen, but Jon’s next words stopped him in his tracks. 

“But you don’t have a place lined up yet!” Jon took a half-step back when Theon glared over his shoulder at him. Theon could see the effort it took for Jon to stay, to try and return his glare. The set of Jon’s jaw was stubborn, but Theon knew fear when he saw it. Jon licked his lips and when Theon made no more move to leave, he haltingly continued. “I’ve been looking at apartments, and rentals. Everything I could afford would mean living on the ugly side of Martin Luther King boulevard.” 

“It has a good side?” Theon quipped, but he was listening now. 

“I’ve been saving up since I started working, but...” Jon trailed off and swallowed, his gaze wavering. Theon shook his head slowly. 

“It’ll be a while yet before you’re out on your ass. You’re still a freshman.” Just like Robb... 

“I’ll age out when my senior year starts. No way Catelyn will let Ned pay tuition for that year - any of that year.” 

“Looks like you’ll have a use for all those savings. Congratulations.” Theon saluted him with the now half-empty milk jug. 

“So I should just let all this drag out until I’m eighteen? How’s that working for you?” 

Theon was across the kitchen in a heartbeat. He collared Jon and backed him up against a counter. Jon jumped when Theon slammed the milk down on the counter next to him. Theon twisted the handful of shirt he had and leaned over Jon, watched his eyes widen, breathed in the smell of soap and wet hair. 

“So I should feel bad for you, Jonny-boy? Hold onto this prize loft you’ve found until you’re old enough to move in?” He raised his free hand, cocked his fist back. Jon flinched but made no move to either free or defend himself. 

“I’ll be sixteen in September, and I’ve already filled out the forms for emancipation.” 

“What?” Theon blinked, lowered his arm. 

“Legally, I’ll be an adult. I can submit the paperwork on my birthday.” 

“Ned wouldn’t...” Theon trailed off, released Jon, and backed up a step. 

“I don’t need his signature if I have Catelyn’s, yeah.” He stood up straight, but he stayed where he was against the counter. “But I can’t sign a lease until then. Not on my own.” 

“Wait,” Theon laughed, running a hand back through his hair. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” 

“Why not?” Jon actually sounded hurt. “You don’t have anyone else to rent with.” 

“Says who?” he asked, retrieving the milk and smirking when Jon flinched the tiniest bit. He turned and walked back over to the fridge, putting the milk away. “I’m not the only one in my class not headed off to college.” 

“Yeah, but you can’t crash in your parents’ basement until you get your shit together.” This time, Jon didn’t so much as bat an eye when Theon stiffened and turned slowly to face him again. “Just like I won’t be able to. Theon, I can cover the security deposit. And help with some of the rent. Until I can move in.” Theon sighed and looked away, frowning. There was something painful about the hope in Jon’s eyes. And if he was honest, the plan he had wasn’t as good. “Please?” 

“Are you sure?” He asked slowly. “If you clock out early, you’ll miss out on two years of free room and board while you’re working. And you’ll miss out on all that varsity tail you’ve been eyeing all year.” 

“That--” Jon spluttered. “That’s _not_ why I joined Track!” 

“Uh huh.” Theon grinned. 

“Look,” Jon huffed, crossing his arms. “Will you come look at the apartment or not?”


	13. Movie night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is ticking on, and Theon isn't the only one feeling it.

Theon was sprawled on top of his blankets, armed crossed behind his head, staring up at the ceiling while he ran through the apartment tour again and again. The florescent lighting and stained carpeting in the lobby, the hallways made his skin crawl. The sharp smells of strangers’ bodies and unfamiliar cooking only accentuated how foreign the apartment building was from the Stark house. 

The ground floor had the apartment management office, mailboxes, and a ten by ten room with no windows and two exercise bikes. There wasn’t an elevator. The stairs were thickly carpeted and vibrated under every footfall. Communal laundry rooms were on the first floor. The apartment for lease was on the second floor. It was smaller than he’d pictured. It would be a trick to fit a bed in either of the two bedrooms. One bedroom was right off the entrance and shared a wall with the hallway. The other was at the end of the long apartment and had a window that opened on the busy street-side of the building. There was a good view of the fire station garage across the four-lane street. 

The living room space was long, carpeted, and separated from the kitchen by an island. The linoleum floor in the kitchen had circular burns melted into it in a few places. The bathroom was just bigger than a hall closet, and sported only a shower - no tub. The most appealing part of the place was that it was a corner apartment and casement windows running the length of the narrow living room were on the south wall. It would be bright, something he’d learned to value since moving to the north with it’s long, overcast winters. 

He and Jon had both filled out applications, and Jon had paid the fees for both. The leasing agent had told them, off the record, that they would “totally get approved.” He also mentioned that they could turn in the first month rent and the deposit to their building manager as soon as they were approved, but that they wouldn’t be able to get their keys until the first week in May. The idea that he and Jon would potentially be moving in before the last day of his senior year made Theon’s stomach drop. May was only three weeks away. His last day of school was in five. 

A muffled shriek made him sit up in bed. Made the hairs on the back of his neck raise up. Theon’s body moved woodenly toward the door while his mind froze, sliding into an old loop. It took him a moment to unclench a fist so he could turn the door knob. A loud peal of laughter cut the silence that had followed the shriek. His heart skipped a beat. Arya? When he opened his door he heard Robb’s laugh too, and an unintelligible scolding from Sansa. He closed his door behind him and headed for the den. 

The den was dark, but for the projector. Sansa, Arya, and Robb were curled up on the sectional couch that spanned the wall opposite the screen. All three of them were tucked under an oversized comforter. Thick curtains behind the screen blocked out all the outside light -- including the strings of white and purple lights hanging the backyard trees. _Easter lights_ , he gave a snort of laughter. Three glow-washed faces turned to where Theon stood in the doorway. 

“Jesus.” Sansa only mouthed it, her eyes narrowing as her grip on the comforter eased up. 

“Theon!” He couldn’t help but return Arya’s grin. He watched as she patted the comforter, inviting him onto the couch. “Come watch Netflix. Mom and dad are at some dinner until late. We’re watching American Horror Story!” 

“Not worried about nightmares?” He teased, crossing in front of the girls and sinking down onto the couch on next to Robb. 

“ _I_ know it’s not _real_. Sansa’s the one who’s scared.” 

“Arya!” 

“Well you are,” she insisted, shoving back at her sister under the blanket. 

“And aren’t you worried about your dad checking the recently watched list?” Theon asked, raising an eyebrow at Robb. 

“I logged into a friend’s account. I’ll switch it back before we go to bed.” Robb winked at his own cleverness and then wrestled a little more comforter from his sisters so he could throw it over Theon, too. 

“Won’t you,” Theon shrugged off a sudden surge of discomfort as the blanket settled over his lap. He suddenly felt sick, felt like he could only breathe high in his chest. And he hated himself for it. This happened sometimes, when that old fear caught him off guard. He gritted his teeth, trying to block out everything but the warmth he’d felt at being tucked in, like family. “Don’t you need your family account pass-” 

“Already have the password,” Robb interrupted, raising his chin a little. “Just enjoy the show.” 

“How did you...?” Theon started to ask as he settled more comfortably back into the couch, lacing his fingers behind his head. He would _not_ let that gross feeling just roll over everything. 

“Sansa.” Robb said, his smile belying his shrug. Theon leaned forward and looked past Robb. Sansa’s smile was smug, and she only spared Theon the briefest glance before staring back at the screen. 

“Wow.” Theon whistled and shook his head. “It’s always the quiet ones. Nice. Didn’t think you had it in you, Sansa.” 

“Shhhh. _Theoooon_ ,” Arya hissed, her eyes glued to the show. 

Theon chuckled softly, but he obeyed -- quietly. The episode ended about ten minutes later, but the show seemed decent enough so he stayed where he was while the autoplay started up the next episode. The acting was good, and the storyline got more and more twisted. He laughed along with Arya whenever a jump scare got to Sansa and Robb. Shuddered appreciatively at well-done gore. When the end credits started up, Arya stood up and lunged off the couch, upsetting the comforter and jostling them all. 

“Popcorn! Pause it if I’m not back after the intro song!” she yelled, racing for the kitchen. Sansa shook her head and folded back her end of the comforter before following after Arya, muttering something about a soda. 

“What time is it?” Theon stretched and yawned. 

“Mom said she’d call when they’re on their way home,” Robb supplied, then covered his own yawn with one hand. Theon glanced sideways at Robb, marvelling at the way he always saw through things. He felt the little knot of tension in his stomach work itself loose at Robb’s answer. He smiled to himself, watching the countdown that popped up in the corner of the screen, ticking down the seconds until the autoplay would kick in. He’d actually closed his eyes, basking in the break from all the things he’d been thinking over, when he felt Robb lean into his side. 

Theon froze, stunned. This felt very different from the hugs and playful punches they traded on the mats, or at school, or... It made him think of the last time they’d trained in the neighborhood park. He waited for Robb to explain, or to ask one of his questions, but he just stayed close. Theon looked down at the curly head of hair resting against his chest. He swallowed, and then shifted, lifting one arm from behind his head and tentatively settling it around Robb’s shoulders. He felt Robb twitch, then felt a hand work its way between the couch cushions and the small of his back. 

A rush of heat ran up his spine from Robb’s hand, up the back of his neck from. Theon could feel his stomach knotting up again. He closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow, for the sudden urge to pee to fade. 

“What’s up?” he whispered. 

“I’m sorry,” Robb whispered back, his voice tight. “About mom. I don’t want you to go.” 

“I know,” he replied automatically. Theon had to swallow against the lump gathering painfully in his throat. “Me too.” 

“Theon? Do you...love me? Even though we’re not, I mean, even though I’m not really your...” 

The air left Theon’s lungs in a rush, and his arm tightened around Robb. 

“Always,” he gasped, when he could finally breathe again. 

“Popcorn!” A cheery voice announced. Theon felt the blood drain from his face. Robb sat up, shrugged off Theon’s arm while he pulled his arm out from behind Theon’s back. Arya bounded back into the room with a big, full plastic bowl and crawled back onto the couch. She pulled the comforter back onto her lap and then scowled. 

“You didn’t pause it!” she accused, scowling at her brothers. 

“Sorry Arya,” Robb said quietly. “Forgot.” 

“Forgot what?” Sansa asked, reappearing as well with two cups. Arya reached out for one of the cups even as she demanded. 

“Sansa, where’s the remote? We have to rewind it.”


	14. Morning Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dilemma of childhood - to go to school, or to ditch.

_Bang._

The loud knock on his door was how every weekday morning started, now that he and Asha weren’t speaking. Theon threw back his blanket and struggled to open his eyes. He felt sick to his stomach at the prospect of riding the bus all the way to a school he hated and being stuck there all day until he could ride back on the same stupid bus. There was nothing else, though. He would be dressed and out the door at the bus stop, Monday through Friday, or Asha would break his skull. She hadn’t said as much, but then she didn’t really need to. 

Theon had daydreamed about just getting off the bus, a couple stops away from home. He could imagine the looks his classmates would give him. Shock and disbelief. A little awe? No bright, shared smiles though. Not anymore, not with Theon. 

The driver would probably yell at him, maybe curse after him. Not that the driver could physically stop Theon from just walking off the bus. And why should he? Not his job to anything more than drive. Theon knew that people never did more than they were paid to. Compensated for. Plus, he knew grown ups could get in trouble if they touched kids. _He_ could get his bus driver in trouble. If he wanted... 

He could do it. Just leave. Walk home. Not go back to school. Asha didn’t ride the bus with him anymore -- Maron gave her a ride. 

_She’d know._

Theon sighed as he changed out of his pajamas and into jeans and a t-shirt. As many times as he told himself not to care about what Asha thought, he did. He _hated_ her. Her, and Maron? He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth together, waited for the stinging in his eyes to fade. When he could breathe and keep his face together, he opened his door and headed slowly, softly down the stairs. With each step, a voice in the back of his head egged him on. 

_Ditch the bus._ It was true no one would find out until it was too late. If the school called, there wouldn’t be anybody home to answer. Asha had school. Maron and Rodrik never picked up the house phone. And the god knew Balon Greyjoy wasn’t at home. Theon’s parents hadn’t come home from the hospital as planned. On Saturday. 

Well, Balon had, but for dinner only, on Sunday night. Theon didn’t know exactly what had happened, just that his mother wasn’t going to come home yet. And that he wasn’t to ask about it. Maron and Asha had both told him not to dare ask. Rodrik had asked, though. Of course. His mouth had been full when he just turned to their father and asked why their mother was still sick. Theon had dropped his fork and shrank in his seat. He guessed that Rodrik was drunk. After a beat of silence Balon had hit his second born son so hard he’d knocked him off his chair. Rodrik vanished under the table right in front of Theon’s eyes. No one spoke for the rest of the meal, and Balon left the house again as soon as his plate was empty. 

Theon slipped into his sneakers without bothering to tie them, pulled a hoodie on over his head, and then went out the front door to wait for the bus. He didn’t eat breakfast anymore. Just the sight of food in the morning made Theon feel ill. After school he ate whatever he could find, as soon as he got home. Then went up to his room and stayed there until he fell asleep. 

Without Balon’s presence, his children had abandoned all pretenses of eating any family meals together. Theon was grateful. It was so much worse to hate someone close up than it was to hate them from under his blankets in bed. Up close made his face go numb. Made it so he couldn’t breathe, or look up. Hating every other person at the table, all at the same time, through an entire meal? He just couldn’t. He couldn’t let himself get that close, get so sick and angry. It was better to just stay out of the way all the time, now. 

Theon was outside, waiting down at the end of the driveway for the school bus. He was resolved to just getting through the school day -- there was lunch to look forward to at least -- when he heard the front door slam open. He frowned, glancing back over his shoulder toward the house. Theon saw Asha running toward him, fully dressed, when he knew she didn’t need to be up for another half hour. He turned to face her and visibly cringed, his brain scrambling to recall what he might have done to call down her wrath. 

“Theon! It’s mom,” Asha gasped, grabbing his arm. When he could only stare at her in response, Asha gave him a shake. “We have to go to the hospital. Now!” 

“Mom?” he said finally, feeling small. Theon felt cold, frozen in place. With Asha so close, towering over him, a part of him recognized that she didn’t smell like herself. Cigarettes. And Asha didn’t smoke. Ever. 

“Yes, come _on_. We have to go!” She turned and started walking back up the driveway, dragging Theon along after her by his wrist. 

“I have school,” he protested weakly, stumbling as Asha tugged him along. 

“Dad called Maron, just now. We have to go,” she replied, sounding tense, distracted. He heard a door slam open, the back door this time. Theon felt his stomach turn over as his eyes found Maron and Rodrik. They were scowling at each other, arguing as they moved toward Maron’s car. Theon hadn’t seen Rodrik since that night. Well, once. At their last family dinner. But that had been a brief contact, thanks to their father. He could feel his eyes begin to sting and water as Asha moved him bodily closer to the car, to Rodrik. 

“I don’t want to,” he heard himself whine. He leaned back from her and dug in his heels, resisting Asha’s pulling at last. 

“Theon!” she snarled, tightening her grip on him. “Stop it!” 

“No, I’m not going!” he cried, trying frantically to wrench his arm free. 

“Asha. _Now_.” That was Maron. 

“Just leave him,” Rodrik added helpfully, climbing into the back seat with a yawn. In Asha’s old place, next to Theon. 

“What is the matter with you?” She yelled, lifting Theon up by his wrist so he dangled in her hold, dancing on tiptoe. 

“No!” Theon let his legs go weak, hoping his dead weight would let him pull free. He didn’t dare look up into his sister’s face, though his every instinct told him she was expecting him to. He twisted against her hold. “ _Let go_!” 

Theon’s ears rang when she slapped him. He crumpled to the driveway, unseeing, a few steps away from the rear bumper of the car. She’d dropped him. He shook as the tears came, made no attempt to rise. 

“Theon.” Asha’s voice sounded strange and hushed. “Theon, I didn’t-” she broke off, and he felt her hand on his shoulder. He jerked away from her touch with a sob, scrambling backwards on the ground, away from the car. Then he heard a two short horn bursts. The bus. 

He was on his feet in an instant, sprinting to the only sanctuary his brain could come up with. Asha didn’t call after him. Theon could hardly see where he was going, but he didn’t stop. He threw himself into the waiting bus, and scrambled into the first empty seat. He kept his head down, ignoring the unnatural hush in the students seated around him. Theon just kept crying and praying until he heard the squeak of the bus door finally folding closed, felt the seat under him shudder as the engine started up.


	15. Telling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets, secrets are no fun, secrets, secrets hurt someone.

“Mr. Greyjoy?” 

Theon twitched at the sound of his name and shuffled his feet uncomfortably, but he didn’t look up from the paperweight on his principal’s desk. It was blown glass and about the size of a fist. Most of the glass apple was clear, but there was a burst of red at its core. A single hair-fine tendril of fire-engine red started near the base of the piece. The red thickened, fanned out like food coloring in water as it spiraled up toward the small stem at the top of the apple. 

“Do you know why you’re in my office, Mr. Greyjoy?” 

Theon shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach. Had Asha called the school? Had his father? 

“I received an incident report, Mr. Greyjoy.” 

_Mom’s dead._ Theon clenched his teeth together to keep his lower jaw from quivering. She’s dead and I didn’t go. Why didn’t I just go? Had he been anywhere else, he might’ve been tempted to yell. To scream and kick. There always seemed to be a quiet around Mr. Rick though. A force of stillness overwhelmed any room his principal entered. Classrooms, the lunchroom, hallways -- even the gymnasium during school assemblies. Theon was surprised he could breathe at all, alone with the man in his office, the only thing separating them a heavy, dark-stained, wooden desk. 

“This report was called in by a school bus driver earlier today. Do you have something you would like to tell me, Mr. Greyjoy?” 

Theon could feel something pressing in on his eardrums while his principal waited in silence. He didn’t dare open his mouth as his stomach gave an audible growl. He closed his eyes for a moment, prayed he wouldn’t throw up. 

“Mr. Greyjoy, head up please.” Theon flinched, but he obeyed. He trembled as he met Mr. Rick’s eyes. “I understand if you are uncomfortable, but you are not in trouble. I also know that it is nearly time for your lunch period. I do not wish to make you late for lunch, but I need you to do something important for me first.” 

Theon gave a stiff nod of his head, his eyes wide in his face as he stood silently. His hands shook with the effort it was taking to keep them hanging at his sides instead of wringing together. 

“Tell me: Is everything alright at home?” Theon did his best not to blink when Mr. Rick paused and leaned forward in his chair, his hands folded neatly together on his desk. “I understand your mother is unwell?” 

Theon nodded again, jerkily. His jaw was beginning to ache. “I need you to tell me if there is anything else going on at home, something troubling you that you haven’t told anyone about.” 

Theon’s gaze immediately dropped back down to the glass apple. He shook his head no. 

“Mr. Greyjoy.” While his name wasn’t spoken sharply, Theon heard the clear instruction in his principal’s voice. He looked up, meeting Mr. Rick’s eyes again. “You are not in trouble. I promise that nothing you say in this room will get you in trouble. You can tell me anything, and no one in or out of this school will punish you for it. Do you understand what I am telling you, Mr. Greyjoy?” 

Theon bit the inside of his cheek and gave the barest of nods. 

“I need to hear you tell me that you understand, Mr. Greyjoy.” 

“I--” Theon shivered, then swallowed. A humming was beginning to build in his ears. His stomach felt gross. He crossed his arms over his chest, but he didn’t look away. “Yes, Mr. Rick.” 

“Theon.” 

“Yes sir?” He could barely hear his own voice. He could feel twin pinpricks of burning, just starting in the corners of his eyes. 

“Are you being abused, son? Is someone hurting you?” 

“No,” Theon gasped, his mouth falling open. His forehead wrinkled as he shook his head no, heat creeping up his neck, flushing his cheeks. He backed up a step, but he couldn’t look away from his principal. 

“Are you certain, Mr. Greyjoy?” 

“Yes. I love my family.” Theon’s vision started to blur as tears welled up in his eyes. He wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. _Why_ was this happening? “I’m okay, Mr. Rick.” He fidgeted, suddenly feeling the need to use the bathroom. He uncrossed his arms, looked away, then quickly looked back. “I promise,” he added finally, desperate to be allowed to leave, to go back to his classroom. 

“You will come to me, if there is anything you want to tell me? Something you think of later?” 

“Yes, Mr. Rick,” he answered quickly, then held his breath. He felt something loosen in his chest when his principal sighed. 

“You may go back to class, Mr. Greyjoy.” 

Theon forced himself to walk out of the principal’s office, and past the school secretary, but when he was sure no adult could see or hear him anymore he ran. He headed down to the basement floor where the cafeteria was, but he walked right past the open double doors, shying away from the all the voices there, from the smells of food. He ducked into the boy's’ restroom, locked himself in a stall, and stayed there. 

At the end of the school day, Theon decided to walk home rather than face the bus driver who had his route. 

..... 

It was early evening when Theon started up the long driveway to his house. He felt cold, but knew it had nothing to do with the sun disappearing down into the trees. He’d had a lot of time to think over what was probably about to happen. Maybe Asha wouldn’t hit him. Maybe Maron would. Drowned God, what if his father did? The thought of what Balon might do had reduced Theon to tears more than once on his long homeward walk. He tried not to think about his mother, about what might have happened to her. 

Theon shivered as he walked into the shadow of his house. He looked up, toward the garage, but there was no car. He looked quickly at his house, and all of the windows were dark. He took a deep breathe as he crept up to the front door. It was locked. He made his way slowly over to the back door, near the car garage. He held his breath and tried the door. It opened. 

The back hall and the kitchen beyond were dark. He strained his ears but couldn’t hear anything besides the familiar low thrum of the refrigerator. He thought about taking his shoes off and hesitated. He crept into the kitchen first and looked around, then checked the dining room. No one was home. He knew it was dinnertime, knew his brothers and sister should be there. Knew that he should be in trouble. He walked over to the empty dining table, the only light in the room coming from the fading light outside the windows. Theon reached out a trembling hand and let it rest on the arm of his father’s chair, at the head of the table. 

When nothing happened at the table, Theon slowly pulled his hand away and left the dining room. He headed for the front hall, moving automatically toward the rubber-backed mat tucked against the wall near the front door. He rested his hands against the wall and he worked his shoes off with his feet, stepping on the heel of one shoe and pulling free, then the other. A part of him wanted to creep back into the kitchen for something to eat; he was starving, having eaten nothing for breakfast or lunch. A larger part of him, one he had carefully ignored on his walk from school, had him moving for the stairs rather than back to the kitchen. He needed to use the bathroom before he could do anything else. 

Now that he was at the top of the landing and nearly to the toilet, he could feel the ache below his stomach, an itch in the front of his underpants that let him know he had almost cut it too close. Not that he would’ve risked going outside on the way home. Not against some...tree. 

Theon didn’t bother to flip the hall lightswitch. He knew the way to the bathroom in the dark. His socks barely whispered against the carpeting as he passed his bedroom, Asha’s, Rodrik’s, and Maron’s rooms. He did close the door behind him and turn on the light in the bathroom though. He sighed as he relieved himself and then flushed the toilet. He remembered to turn off the light before he opened the door. He blinked again and again as he retraced his steps, waiting for his eyes to adjust back to the darkness while he considered what to do about food. His mind was on moving down the stairs, on whether he should check in the fridge or just get something from the cupboards, something he wouldn’t have to heat or cook. He yelped when he tripped over something and fell noisily to the floor. 

“Hey baby brother mine. What’s up?” 

Theon turned to face Rodrik’s now open doorway, his mouth falling open in horror. He scrambled from his hands and knees onto his butt and froze, staring up into inky blackness. He waited for his brother’s face to take shape. Prayed he was only dreaming and would wake up soon. 

“Have a good day at school? You know,” Rodrik’s voice trailed off, and in the next instant blinding light flooded into the hallway. Theon threw an arm over his eyes. “Your principal called. Left a message for dad on the answering machine. Don’t worry -- I erased the message.” 

Theon blinked frantically, trying to scramble backwards and trying to squint around his arms, between his fingers so he could catch sight of his brother. 

“You are in big fucking trouble though,” Rodrik growled. 

“I didn’t,” he started to whine, struggling to his feet and continuing to back away down the landing, back toward the top of the stairs. “No, wait!” Theon yelped again when Rodrik’s hands slammed into his shoulders, knocking him backwards onto the floor. 

“You _told_ ,” his brother hissed, looming over him. Theon couldn’t see Rodrik’s face, not with the light coming from behind him. He felt his brother’s eyes on him though, raking over his body. It would’ve been better to come home to Balon, better to take a belting. Rodrik was going to kill him. 

“I didn’t tell,” he cried, crossing his arms protectively over his head. He didn’t try to stand up. “I swear, Rodrik, I didn’t tell! I didn’t!” 

“Are you sure? Because your principal wants to meet with dad. Has something he’d like to discuss. Something,” and Rodrik pitched his voice low, imitating Mr. Rick, “‘sensitive and very serious.’” 

“I swear I didn’t. H-he asked me questions but I d-didn’t tell.” Tears began to run down his face while his body shook, but he stayed where he was on the floor. Waiting. 

“Now why don’t I believe you, baby bro?” 

“It’s mom,” Theon blurted suddenly. “M-mr. Rick knows she’s in the h-hospital. He said I...he wanted me to t-tell him about her. About how sh-she’s--” Theon broke off in a sob. He wanted her, all of a sudden, he wanted his mother to be there. To hold him. _I’ll never see her again._

“Eeeeehrn! Wrong answer.” Theon gasped as fingers fumbled at the collar of his hoodie, grabbed there, and hauled him onto his feet. Rodrik had brought them face to face, and in spite of his tears Theon’s eyes had finally adjusted to the light. The moment he saw in the look on his brother’s face he wished he hadn’t. “Why would he care that mom’s crazy? She’s not the only one in Iron Lake locked up in the looney bin.” 

“Mom’s not crazy,” Theon whimpered, struggling in Rodrik’s hold, trying to pry his fingers off. 

“She doesn’t have _cancer_ , Rodrik snorted, his voice full of derision. “That’s for damn sure.” When Theon only sobbed in response, Rodrik gave him a rough shake. “She’s mental, not dying!” 

“No, she’s not.” Theon couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t. She was dead. She had to be. Why else would she have left him alone? He turned his face away from Rodrik’s as he cried, his toes scrambling for purchase on the floor he could hardly reach. 

“Stop. _Crying_.” Rodrik yelled into Theon’s face. Then, “Fuck!” 

Theon had bitten down on his brother’s knuckles where they held the neck of his hoodie. He managed to stay on his feet when Rodrik dropped him. Theon bolted for his bedroom, slammed his door open, and threw himself at his bed. He scrambled blindly for the ax handle under his pillow, then felt Rodrik’s hand clamp down on his shoulder as he suddenly remembered he’d moved it, forgotten it on the window sill. Theon yelled as Rodrik jerked him backwards against his chest. His yelling cut off as Rodrik wrapped his forearm under Theon’s throat and squeezed. Theon squirmed, clawing at his brother’s arm, kicking furiously, aiming for the space between his brother’s legs. 

Rodrik’s groan barely registered in Theon’s ears. He only knew Rodrik’s grip was falling away, that Rodrik was collapsing forward against him. Theon shot away from his brother’s touch, slammed into the corner of his dresser on his mad dash for the window. Apart from the light shining in his bedroom doorway from the hall, Theon’s window was the only other rectangle of non-darkness. It drew him like a beacon. His knuckles slammed into wood, brushed glass, and then he had it. His fingers tightened around the handle in a death grip. He spun around so fast that the end of the ax handle knocked into the lower pane of window glass, shattering it. Theon held the ax handle out like a sword between himself and Rodrik. 

“Get out,” he cried, scowling as he watched Rodrik recover, straightening from his huddled crouch. From Theon’s chance heel to his groin. The look in Rodrik’s eyes made Theon readjust his grip on his weapon. 

“You’re going to fight me? Little baby brother?” he grinned as he said the last, leering and inching closer to Theon. 

“Don’t touch me. I mean it!” His teeth showed as he yelled, matching Rodrik’s stare even as his arms trembled. 

“I _mean_ it,” Rodrik taunted, taking a swipe at the handle to grab it. 

“Get out,” Theon cried again, pulling back the handle and then taking a swing of his own at Rodrik. “Get out or I’ll kill you!” 

When Rodrik lunged in suddenly, Theon swung and caught him in the side. The wooden handle made a dull thwacking sound against Rodrik’s ribs. Theon’s hands hurt from the contact but he didn’t drop the handle. Before he had the chance to reel back and hit Rodrik again, his brother was on him. Rodrik backhanded him hard enough to knock him across the room. The wall brought his flight to an abrupt halt. Theon wasn’t aware of his head cracking into the wall. The ax handle slipped from his hands as his body crumpled.


	16. Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All alone with Rodrik. Again.

Theon couldn’t see and it had nothing to do with the lack of light. He couldn’t hear but a part of him knew there was sound. His arms and legs jerked, but he couldn’t coordinate them, couldn’t rise. When he felt hands on him, wrenching him up by his armpits, Theon moaned. He wanted to stop, to pull away from Rodrik, but he was having trouble simply raising his head. He knew he was crying and hated himself for it, wished he could do anything else. It was as though his brain had stayed back there on the floor. He’d lost all control over his body, all will to respond to what happened around him. 

“You little fuck.” Rodrik threw him down half on, half off the bed. Theon stayed face down and unmoving, only his fingers twitched, plucking feebly at the twisted sheets and blanket on his bed. His legs hung limply over the edge of the bed, his knees, shins, and the tops of his feet rested on the floorboards. Theon knew when Rodrik leaned over him, felt palms plant on his shoulders and press him down into the mattress. Theon whimpered as Rodrik’s breath warmed the back of his neck, lips brushed briefly against his ear. “You want to play rough?” his brother whispered, one hand sliding from Theon’s shoulder to grip the back of his neck. “I got you, little man.” 

He groaned softly under Rodrik’s hands, unable to raise his cheek from the bed. His brother reeked of cigarettes and beer. Theon gagged between sobs as the heavy scent filled his nose and mouth. He couldn’t stop crying. 

“Don’t fight, Theon.” The words sent a jolt of fear through his guts, made him squeeze his eyes shut. 

”No,” he moaned. He felt dizzy, his arms and legs heavy as if he was only half awake. 

”I can be good to you.” Theon flinched as Rodrik’s fingers stroked his neck, his cheek, into his hair. “I want to,” his brother added, his voice low and husky. Theon’s next sob was soundless as Rodrik’s weight lowered onto his back. He shivered when a stubbled cheek scraped against his own. “Stop crying. I can make it so it doesn’t hurt, okay?” 

”No,” he gasped, his fingers weakly clutching at the bedsheets. 

” _Stop_ ,” came the dangerous growl, “crying.” 

”Don’t,” Theon gasped again, too frightened to obey. He couldn’t breathe. He was drowning. 

”Or.” Cool air swept over him as Rodrik’s body disappeared. Theon whimpered and tensed, dreading what would come next. It was over. Boxing hadn’t worked. The ax handle hadn’t mattered. There was nothing, no way he could save himself. “Or is this what you want? Huh?” 

Rodrik’s hands felt rough and fast, all knuckles and bones against his stomach, digging under him and jerking his jeans open. Theon bit back a wail as Rodrik started to tug his jeans off, jerking Theon’s torso up off the mattress a few times. 

“I don’t want to,” Theon whimpered, his hands tightening into fists on the sheets. 

“Fuck Maron! And fuck Asha!” Rodrik’s anger was loud, a sound that could only exist when he was drunk. Balon had all of his children too well trained. Warning hung thick over the house, over all of them. It had ever since before Theon could remember, and that kept things quiet around the Greyjoy children. All kinds of things. 

Theon turned his head and buried his face in the mattress as he felt his legs lift, felt his jeans slip off over his feet. The tops of his feet dropped back to the floor with painful smacks. His knees felt raw, bare and grinding against the floor. 

“They have each other,” Rodrik raged on. Theon bit his lower lip until it bled when Rodrik roughly tugged his underwear down, holding back a scream. The fabric stretched between Theon’s legs, seams digging painfully into the backs of his knees. “They can’t have you, too.” 

Theon felt Rodrik’s fingers on the backs of his bare legs, trailing up to his butt, and back down. He shook with the effort of not crying out. All he could do was hold on, his fingers aching so painfully he couldn’t feel the sheet he clung to. His bed, his room were spinning sickeningly. 

“You’re mine, little brother.” When he heard Rodrik hawk and spit, felt a wet and warm palm rub between his cheeks, Theon couldn’t stop himself -- he raised his face and screamed. 

“MOM!” 

“Shut up!” his brother shouted, his hand faltering for a moment. 

“MOOOOOOM!” Theon wailed again. He felt Rodrik grab at him, rubbing again, roughly this time. He felt fingers pressing against him and he squirmed, resisting. A hard smack landed between his shoulder blades. He froze. 

“Hold still!” The hand between his legs was gone, and then Theon could hear a soft metallic clinking and a creak of leather. Panic gripped him. Theon struggled to get to his feet, to crawl further onto the bed, away from Rodrik. He heard his brother swear. Theon kicked one leg free of his underwear and scrambled forward. He screamed when he felt a hand seize his ankle. Screamed again when Rodrik hauled him backwards, halfway off the bed again. When Rodrik slapped him hard, Theon screamed again, fought to get away, to climb back on top of the bed. 

“Get _off_ of him!” Asha’s shriek had no effect on Theon’s hysterics. He only clambered onto his mattress when Rodrik’s hands released his hips, still screaming. Yells joined with his screams. Theon huddled into a ball, pulling his blanket over his head as he pressed his back against the wall, as far as he could get from the fight happening in the darkness just beyond his bed. Theon felt the bed jolt suddenly. Then again. He was gasping between screams now, dissolving into terrified sobs. He couldn’t tell who knocked against the bedframe one moment, or who dropped onto and then sprang off of his mattress in another. 

“RODRIK!” Maron’s voice made Theon jump to his feet. His blanket slipped off his head, though he kept it clutched close. Bright light flooded his room, burned his eyes. He couldn’t see Maron, but he didn’t want to. 

Hunched with sobs, Theon pressed one hand against the wall, followed it with his eyes squeezed shut, off his bed and away. Away from the stomps and crashes, the grunts and yells coming from the heart of his bedroom. He tripped as he reached his doorway, screamed as he stumbled, then ran. He didn’t need to see to run down the stairs he’d known all his life, though he was lucky he didn’t slip on his own blanket. He was still hugging it tight to his chest, plush and soft. 

Theon gasped and sobbed when his feet hit the ground floor, as he ran for the front door. It was wide open and he didn’t stop to put on his shoes. He raced outside and down the driveway in his t-shirt and blanket. He didn’t remember seeing Maron’s taillights glowing red in the darkness, the cabin light pouring out of the wide open car doors. He just ran. 

..... 

When Theon realized he was shivering, and cold, he stopped. He had no idea where he was. The shoulder of a road. It was beyond him to care about which road. He wrapped his blanket around himself stiffly, then started off again. He only made it a few uneven steps before he realized how badly his feet hurt. He sank down where he stopped, in the dirt and grit just off the paved roadway. He might’ve cried, but he was so tired. He curled into a ball inside his black, plush blanket with gold satin trim and fell asleep. 

..... 

If the engine of the crawling patrol car didn’t wake Theon, the search light glaring down on his huddled, blanket-wrapped body certainly wasn’t going to. It was the car door opening that finally made him stir. He was dimly aware of garbled voices and radio static. The hum of a motor. Footsteps. Theon sat up and stared blankly at the state trooper approaching him, kneeling beside him, speaking to him and then into a microphone clipped onto the shoulder of his uniform. He lowered his head and stayed where he was, sitting on the ground, wrapped in his blanket. Theon listened to the officer’s voice go on and on without registering any words. He was relieved and grateful that the officer hadn’t tried to touch him.


	17. Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good news, bad news: the legal system steps in.

“Hi there,” a soft female voice coaxed from the hallway. Theon only pulled his blanket more tightly around himself. He was sitting on a black, plastic conference chair with metal legs. There was a desk immediately to his right. On the far side of it was the door to the office, left wide open so that Theon could be heard by an officer or detective if he needed anything. Or if they had more questions, he guessed. He had his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. He kept his eyes on the nondescript blue-green carpeting in front of him, wishing he’d thought to hide under the desk when they’d first left him alone. 

“I’m sorry you had to wait. My name is Deborah. I’m going to stay with you and keep you safe while you’re here. My job is to make sure no one can hurt you anymore. Okay? I know you’re scared, but you are safe. Are you hungry, Theon? Would you like something to eat?” 

“I want to go home,” he mumbled, looking up into the woman’s eyes. She had a nice face. Nice like his first grade teacher had been. Her hair was light brown, though. His teacher’s hair had been blonde, and a little curly. The frames of her glasses were cream colored, with streaks and swirls of blue on them. She had a white button up sweater on over her pink paisley print dress. 

“I want to let you go home, Theon, but it isn’t safe there for you. I have to keep you safe, that’s my job. You have to stay here at the police station we me, for a little while yet.” 

Theon looked away and swallowed as tears started to spill over. Keeping his arm covered, he reached up to brush the tears off with his blanket and sniffled. 

“Everyone here wants to help you, sweetie. We’re going to keep you safe. May I come in and sit with you?” 

“Are you a cop?” he asked, his voice small. 

The officer who’d brought him to the station had asked him a lot of questions. He’d touched Theon, too. Well, carried him. He’d helped Theon into his squad car, buckled him into the passenger seat. When they’d arrived at the police station, Theon hadn’t been able to bear his own weight, so the officer had carried him again. 

Theon had hidden his face in the officer’s shoulder, shaking with fear when they’d first entered. He’d tried to ignore the shocked exclamations from the strangers all around, the barrage of serious questions fired at him and the officer in hushed tones. He’d cried with relief when the officer had brought him into a quiet office and settled him in a chair, had asked if Theon wanted the lights on or off. Had asked Theon what kind of soda he wanted, and brought him a can of ginger ale with a straw in it. 

“No,” the Deborah replied, smiling at him. “I’m not a police officer. I’m an advocate. I help children like you, who need help when something bad has happened. May I please come in?” she asked again. 

“Okay.” Theon gave a tiny shrug, shuffled his feet on the edge of the chair under his blanket. 

..... 

Deborah sat down in one of the chairs arranged in a row against the wall across from him. She didn’t try to come any closer than that. She didn’t ask him any questions either, or make him do anything. She just stayed with him. Accepted a paper plate with a cheese sandwich and potato chips on it for him from an officer, and asked permission before setting it next to him on the desk. He’d had a few of the chips. A bite of the sandwich. Eventually he was glad she was there. He liked the way she smiled. He liked what she told him about herself, about her golden retriever named Max and how he was terrible at playing fetch. 

Theon was almost starting to feel close to...well, not good, but not horrible either. He liked not having to think, to just sit, and have soda and chips, and hear a soothing voice. Then another woman knocked on the doorframe and stepped in, nodded a greeting to Deborah. Theon drew his arms back under his blanket, no longer hungry. He looked from the strange woman to Deborah, feeling his heart beat a little faster. 

“Theon, it’s okay. This is a friend of mine. She came here to see you. She’s a safe person, and a pediatrician I work with.” 

“My name is Dr. Letier,” the stranger ventured. Theon frowned and closed his eyes. “It is very good to meet you. Your name is Theon?” He didn’t bother responding. He was so sick of everyone talking slowly like that to him, like he was stupid. The woman’s tone intensified the gross feeling he was trying to block out, the one that made him wish for extra layers of clothes and another blanket. He opened his eyes then, frightened of what he might see if he kept them shut. He stared pleadingly at Deborah for a moment, then away at the wall behind her when it was clear she wasn’t going to ask the other woman to leave. 

The wall was off-white and dominated by a long, internal window that gave him a view of the neighboring office, dark and empty. He looked at the mesh embedded in the glass, concentrating on following the little black lines in a climbing stair pattern. 

“I know you’re scared. And I know you probably want me to go away, but I can’t do that,” Dr. Letier said. 

“You’ve being very brave, Theon. It’s okay, I promise. You can trust Dr. Letier.” Deborah’s voice was reassuring, entreating. 

“Theon. I want to make sure you’re not hurt. I want to keep you safe and healthy.” Theon shrank in his chair as Dr. Letier moved closer, trying to catch his eye. “I don’t want to ask this of you, but I’m going to need you to be brave again, Theon. Really brave. I need your help.” Theon bit his lower lip. 

“No,” he said, after a moment. 

“Theon, it’s okay,” Deborah said quickly. 

“I need to check on you, on your body, so I can help you feel better.” Theon winced and hid his face in his knees at Dr. Letier’s words. “I will not have to touch you, but I do need to look. Will you let me look at you, honey?” 

Theon looked past Dr. Letier at Deborah, his eyes huge with fear. 

“I don’t want to,” he whispered, his throat feeling tight again. He shivered. 

“I will be with you, Theon. You don’t have to go alone. It’s okay,” his advocate soothed. 

“It will just be a little check up, okay? Just like when you go to see your doctor,” Dr. Letier added. 

“You can say no.” Deborah spoke up, talking over his suddenly rapid breathing. “I won’t make you do anything, Theon, and neither will Dr. Letier. This will help, though, Theon. This is part of how we will keep you safe.” 

“Will it hurt?” he whimpered, swiping at his cheeks with his blanket. 

“Some parts will. I heard your feet are scraped up. Scrapes hurt, but I will be very, very careful. I will do my best to be gentle. I don’t want you to hurt, honey.” 

“Deborah can come?” 

“Yes,” the doctor assured him at once. 

“I promised I’d stay with you, Theon. You won’t have to be alone. I’ll be right with you.” Deborah smiled encouragingly at him. When Theon nodded his consent, both women beamed at him and praised his courage. 

..... 

Theon felt numb by the time the physical examination was over, and a distant part of him was grateful. It was better to be apart from his body, and it had been ever since he’d fled his house. The paper examination gown, the technical language, the impersonal combing over of his body by strangers, all of it had helped him disconnect from what had happened and was happening. He’d been uncomfortable letting go of his blanket and changing out of his clothes, but he’d shed parts of himself with his belongings. He felt free from the verbal and photographic catalog of all the marks on his body. 

Physically we was a very biddable patient. Theon turned his body when and how they asked him to, he opened his mouth for a swab, held still while his feet were tended, and even nodded agreement to have his body carefully touched in “the places that are covered by your swimsuit.” The only moment he came back to himself, back enough in his own skin to be upset and cry, was after all the samples, swabs, and smears. When they’d told him he could dress, he’d turned to find a set of unfamiliar, clean clothes sitting on the chair where he’d placed his own things at the start of the exam. 

There was a pair of dark blue boxers and white tube socks, a pair of grey drawstring sweatpants, a white t-shirt and a grey pullover sweatshirt. A pair of black slide sandals waited on the floor next to the chair. Everything was oversized, but it was all for him to keep. His own things -- including his treasured plush blanket -- had already been sealed away inside two plastic collection bags. He’d wanted to howl. The evidence they’d needed was all he had left in the world. Theon cried silently, but went along willingly when Deborah took his hand led him away. 

Theon had thought they would return to the office he’d already spent so much time in, but Deborah led him out of the front doors of the police station. Two officers accompanied them the short walk to Deborah’s silver SUV. Theon sat in the back of the car, and only spoke up once they were a few blocks away from the police station. 

“Where are we going?” he asked, shifting in his seatbelt; his new clothes were uncomfortable. 

“We are going to the home of a nice family you will stay with, just for tonight. They are friends of mine and they have a son about your age. Their names are Glen and Anna. Their son’s name is Jesse. They have a bedroom ready and waiting just for you.” Theon took in Deborah’s explanation, his horror mounting with detail she shared. 

“I can’t stay with you?” 

“I wish you could, Theon, but I don’t have a space ready for you. Glen and Anna do, and you can trust them to keep you safe.” 

“No. You...you said you’d stay with me. You said you wouldn’t leave me alone,” his voice was choked with the tears pouring down his face. 

“I will be with you, Theon, through this transition. And you won’t be alone. Glen and Anna work with me. They are kind and friendly people. I promise you will be safe with them for the night.” 

“I don’t want to,” he wailed. 

“Theon. I know you’re upset. I know you didn’t want any of this to happen. I am sorry this is happening to you. This is not fair, and I know it hurts.” Her words only made him bawl harder. 

“Theon--” 

“NO!” 

“Theon. Please, Theon.” Deborah gave him the time and space to cry out some of the shock. Theon didn’t realize he was still in his body, that his ears could still hear anything but his own sobs until his advocate spoke again. 

“Listen to me.” And he did, between sniffles. What choice did he have? “You can’t stay with me tonight, Theon. I don’t have a space for you and I won’t be going home. There are some things I need to take care of for you, work I still have to get done tonight. I need you to have dinner and get some sleep. I am bringing you to people I trust to take care of you for the few hours I will be away from you. I am not leaving you alone, Theon. And I will be back to get you in the morning. Can you do this for me, Theon? Stay with my friends so you can eat and rest?” 

“You promise you’ll come back?” he whimpered, wiping his face on the sleeves of his sweatshirt. 

“I promise I will be back for you in the morning, Theon.” 

They drove in silence for ten minutes. Theon stared out the window. He didn’t recognize where they were. Not street names, not any of the buildings they passed. He knew they were on a freeway, but he didn’t know which one, or what direction they were going. The signs displaying names of places and the number of miles left to reach them meant nothing to him. 

The exit ramp Deborah chose brought them into a suburban neighborhood. The houses here were side by side, separated only by short paved driveways that led to garages that matched the homes they were connected to. Theon was silent when Deborah parked the car in front of a two-story red brick house. There was a bright light over the front door, and several path lights on alternating sides of the front walk illuminating the way to it. The front door was white and framed by two narrow, frosted windows. Theon waited where he was Deborah got out of the drivers seat. She walked around to the passenger side and opened the rear door to help Theon climb out of the car. 

Theon felt shaky with every step he took, and it had nothing to do with any raw patches on the soles of his feet. He squeezed Deborah’s hand as the front door opened, spilling a more golden light onto the pale sidewalk. His mouth felt full, and he was scared of what could come out if he opened it. He kept his eyes on the ground between his feet. 

“Hey Debby.” The woman’s voice was warm, and Theon could tell she was trying to speak quietly. He wondered how late it was. His body was so heavy. It felt like Deborah was the only thing keeping him on his feet. He didn’t want her to leave him behind. 

“Hi Anna. It’s good to see you. Anna? This is Theon.” His eyes burned as they flooded with tears again.


	18. Safehouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this up!!! I've been sitting on it for a few days, hoping my brain would ante up a little more. More fool me. Forgive how short it is, please -- we've got a looooong way to go.

Theon was too upset to eat anything after Deborah left. No matter what Anna offered him -- toast, pizza, cereal, spaghettios, and even a donut -- Theon just shook his head. Anna and Glen’s house smelled funny and his stomach churned at the thought of eating anything. When it was clear that nothing was going to pass the boy’s lips, the couple led Theon from the kitchen table, through a living room, and down a short, thickly-carpeted hallway lined with doors. 

They showed Theon the bathroom and he was glad that his bandaged feet gave him an excuse to avoid taking shower. He felt so uneasy using a stranger’s bathroom that all he managed was to use the toilet and then wash his hands. There was a new, unopened toothbrush resting on the tile counter next to the sink basin, but Theon ignored it. He dried his hands and fled. 

Anna was waiting for him when he came out. She smiled and led him to the first door in the hallway, opening it for him and gesturing for him to enter. 

“This room is yours,” she told him while Theon crept in past her and gaped. Apart from his old kindergarten classroom, Theon had never seen so many bright colors in one room. Three of the walls were a soft jade green; the fourth wall, to his left, was a giant mural of a jungle. Sprawling tree trunks in dappled sunlight, ground plants with leaves longer than he was tall, flowers in every color and shape, a waterfall with a little pool at its base, and climbing, twisting vines everywhere. 

Straight ahead of him was the bed. It was a four poster with green sheer fabric for a canopy. There was a quilt on the bed, cream with irregular tan patches like the blotches on a giraffe. In place of decorative pillows was a heap of wild animal plushies. A small wooden dresser was off to the right of the bed. It was painted gold and the three drawers had kelly green handles shaped like tree leaves. To his immediate right, peeking from behind the door was a circular child-sized desk with a matching wooden chair. The top of the desk looked like a cross section of a tree, a pale wood with darker rings expanding out from the center. There was a stack of blank paper, a box of crayons, and a box of markers resting there. Theon shuffled over to the bed in a daze, setting a hand tentatively on the thick quilt. 

“If you want to change,” Anna added, making Theon jump, “there are pajamas in the bottom dresser drawer. If you need anything, Glen and I are in the room next to yours. We will leave our door open a crack so we can hear you if you call out. You know where the bathroom is.” Theon nodded and swallowed. 

“Can...the light stay on?” he asked, looking down at the beige carpet. 

“Of course, Theon. And if you think the light is too bright, there is a night light next to the bed. There’s a switch on the front, yes, that’s the one. Just flick that and the lamp with turn on. Then you can turn off the ceiling light. That switch is here, next to the door.” 

Theon tested the night light, just to be safe. He felt a little calmer when it glowed reassuringly. 

“Would you like me to tuck you in?” she asked. Theon bit his lower lip and shook his head. Anna only nodded. “Sleep well, Theon. If you want anything, anything at all, just ask. We’re so happy you’re here with us, honey. We’ll see you in the morning, alright? Good night,” Anna said, shutting the door behind her. 

It was then that Theon noticed the door knob had a button stick out from its center. The door could lock. He could lock it. He walked over to the door, pressed the button in, and heard a reassuring click. He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a shaky breath. Then he turned, crawled onto the bed, and wormed in under the quilt. He kept the stuffed animals nested around him and shut his eyes. 

His last conscious thoughts were of Asha. She’d been there, back at home, in his room. She’d come back. She’d stopped Rodrik. And what had he done? Ran away and cried, like a baby. Theon shivered and reached out for the closest plushie -- a black and white tapir. He hugged it tight against his chest and cried quietly, wishing he hadn’t left home, wondering where Asha was, and if she would come for him now.


	19. New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon is away from the Greyjoys and deposited with the Starks in less than 48 hours. Huzzah.

Theon ignored Anna’s first knocks on his door from his place beside the window in the jungle bedroom, waiting and staring down at the street in front of the house. He’d pulled one of the heavier green brocade curtains aside, just enough so that he could see past it and through a sliver of the sheer curtains behind it. Opening the thick window curtain even that much that let in a solid line of sunlight, and Theon had watched it carefully as time passed, making sure it didn’t reach the door and shine under it. 

A while later, Theon heard another knock. Then he flinched, hearing his name whispered from the other side of the door. He didn’t answer, so Anna left him to “sleep in longer.” He had slept, but his body had come awake fairly early. In spite of the night he’d had, Theon was too well trained by the habits of the school year. That, and it wasn’t a habit of his to lie in bed, trusting that the world wouldn’t come crashing down around his ears. Being unaware wasn’t restful, it was dangerous. He needed to know, immediately, when his advocate either reappeared or failed to do so. 

Theon was trying to think of what he should do, how he could get out of the house without Anna or Glen catching him. If he did get escape undetected, he didn’t have any food, or money. He had no idea where he was, or which direction led home. All he had were the things he’d received at the police station the night before: the cotton sweatsuit he was wearing, and the slide sandals downstairs somewhere near the front door. His feet felt sore, bandaged, socked and resting on thick carpeting. The thought of how painful it would be to try and run away made him cringe. He hugged the elephant plushie in his arms more tightly. He’d switched from the tapir to the elephant after waking up, some deeper instinct telling him not to depend too heavily on any one toy for comfort. 

_I wanna go home..._

..... 

When Deborah returned, pulling up in her silver SUV and parking down the front walk to Anna and Glen’s home, Theon felt his eyes sting. He dropped the elephant on the floor and raced to the door. He pulled the bedroom door and came face to face with Anna, one hand outstretched to knock. Theon’s momentarily relief was swept aside by surprise. 

”Theon.” If Anna had been startled, her voice was warm and calm in spite of it. “I was just coming to check on you. Deborah’s just arrived. We can all have some breakfast together. Would you like eggs, or pancakes?” 

”I’m not hungry,” he said quickly, unconsciously tangling his fingers together inside the overlong sleeves of his grey sweatshirt. 

”Maybe just juice, then,” Anna replied, her smile unfaltering. “Head on downstairs if you like, Theon. I’m just going to get something. Glen and Jesse are in the kitchen, and Deborah should be joining them any second.” Theon didn’t need to be told twice. He headed down the stairs eagerly, leaning a bit more heavily on the railing than usual, favoring his feet. Deborah was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, bent sideways as she pulled off her other boot. 

”Good morning, Theon. I’m sorry it took me so long to get back. Did you sleep well?” Deborah asked. 

”Yes,” he replied easily, beaming though he made no move to crowd close to or touch her. He felt so much better now that she was back. It felt like even his brain was relaxing; he didn’t have to work hard to push away his thoughts now that she was back. Deborah was real, and happy to see him again. She would help. She had to. 

”Did you already have some breakfast?” she asked. When Theon shook his head, the corners of her eyes crinkled and her smile broadened. “Shall we have something then? Are you hungry?” 

”Yes,” Theon replied after a moment, realizing that he actually did want to eat. He followed Deborah into the kitchen, grateful that she didn’t expect him to talk much. Glen was standing at the sink in the kitchen with his flannel shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He waving a sudsy hand at Deborah and Theon in greeting. 

”Good morning,” he greeted warmly, nodding his head back at the stove behind him. “There are scrambled eggs in the pan on the stove, and blueberry pancakes under the plastic bowl on the counter. The coffee’s just ready. Help yourselves. Jesse, would you give Theon a plate, and a cup of orange juice, please?” 

Theon stiffened for a moment as a boy he hadn’t yet noticed stood up with a soft chair scuffing. He was still in his pajamas, black drawstring pants paired with a comic print top of star wars characters from the original trilogy. He’s eyes were blue, like Anna’s, but his hair was blonde like Glen’s without a trace of red. Theon shuffled his feet and looked down when Jesse approached. Jesse only walked past him. 

”I can get you a plate.” Jesse’s voice was loud, but he spoke slowly, which Theon appreciated. He followed after the other boy willingly, guessing that they were about the same height, though he wondered if Jesse was a little older than himself. “The eggs are okay. Dad always puts onions in them. Here,” he handed Theon a plastic plate with the batman logo printed on the front. Theon stared at the black and yellow symbol in wonder while Jesse left him at the stove, heading for the refrigerator. “Did you want juice? It’s pulp free,” he added, already filling a neon green plastic cup with juice. “I’ll carry it,” Jesse added while Theon looked helplessly from the eggs on the stove top to the bowl-covered pancake plate on the countertop. 

”Here, Theon, let me,” Deborah added, her voice made him twitch. She took his plate from him and added a scoop of eggs on one side and a single pancake on the other before handing it back. Theon watched as she made a similar plate for herself. “Coffee mugs?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at Jesse. He pointed helpfully at a left side cabinet door, just above the coffee maker. “Thank you Jesse,” she replied with a smile. 

”Here,” Jesse added, catching Theon’s attention again. “Here’s a fork.” Theon accepted it wordlessly. “Come sit,” Jesse added, turning and heading back to the kitchen table with complete confidence that Theon would follow. Theon did. 

..... 

Everyone eventually joined Theon and Jesse at the table, carrying on a friendly conversation that no one pressed Theon to join in on. Theon was grateful to listen while he devoured his pancake and had small sips of juice. Despite how awkward eating at a table made him feel -- much less a table of almost complete strangers -- Theon felt soothed by the experience. There was sunlight shining in through lace curtains, the syrup and pancakes were settling warm and satisfying in his stomach, and he was too caught up in following the table talk to get lost in his own head. 

”Well,” Deborah said finally, pushing back from the table. Theon set down his fork automatically and stared up at her face while she smiled around at Anna’s family. “That was a perfect start to the day. Glen, amazing food, as always.” Glen waved off her praise, though his bushy eyebrows lowered in tandem with his smile. 

“Jesse, thank you for all your help with breakfast,” she added, and Jesse nodded with grave formality. “And Anna, thank you for taking such good care of Theon. I wouldn’t have felt good about trusting him with anyone else last night.” 

“Our pleasure,” Anna replied at once. “Are you off, then?” 

“Yes,” Deborah said, standing up and nodding for Theon to do the same. “Theon and I have a few things to take care of, and then a bit of a drive ahead of us.” 

“You both take care, alright?” Anna said, Glen nodded in agreement, smiling first at Deborah, then at Theon. 

“‘Bye Theon. Thanks for coming over.” Jesse smiled and waved to him across the table. 

“Thank you,” Theon said softly, his eyes down on his feet. Though he couldn’t look around the table, he couldn’t feel anything but affection and approval radiating from the people seated there. He felt Deborah’s hand hover protectively over his shoulder, guiding him away from the table and over to the door. Deborah’s boots and his sandals waited near the door. 

..... 

“W-where are we going?” Theon had waited a few minutes before asking. He’d been reluctant to let go of the cozy haze the breakfast had cast over him. 

“Well, first, we’re going to pick out a few things for you,” Deborah replied, glancing away from the road for a moment to meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. 

“Like at a store?” he asked, confused. 

“In a sense,” she answered slowly. “We don’t need money for this store, and really this is a store just for you. I know you didn’t have time to bring any of your things from home, Theon.” The pancake in his stomach seemed to curdle. He shifted uncomfortably, turned his head to look directly out of the passenger window as tears threatened. 

“I am so sorry about that. There is no way that I can give you back exactly what you had before, but if you’ll let me? I would like to try.” 

“Can...can I have my blanket back? From the police?” he ventured, his voice tight. 

“Oh, Theon. I don’t know. I don’t know if you can ever have your old blanket back. I’m sorry, sweetie. That isn’t up to me.” Theon lifted his feet up onto the backseat and wrapped his arms around his knees. He held his breath, determined not to cry. 

“There will be clothes you can choose. And toys. Things for school, like a backpack and art supplies. You’ll be able to get a jacket, and some shoes. Maybe there will even be a blanket you like.” 

“Wh-where’s my sister?” he asked in a whimper, hiding his face against his knees. 

“Theon--” 

“Will Asha be there? Will she be at the store?” he asked, talking over Deborah on purpose. 

“No, Theon. Your sister won’t be at the store.” 

“Where is she? When can I see her?” Theon raised his face from his knees when Deborah didn’t respond immediately. He looked at the rearview mirror, feeling his stomach turn over at the way her brows were knitted together, her eyes full of sadness for him. 

“Theon, you will have to be patient. You might not get to see your sister for a long time.” 

“But I need to,” he gasped, swiping aggressively at his tears with both arms. “I need her. I have to tell her, tell her that I, that I didn’t--” he broke off in a sob. 

“Theon, sweetie--” 

“No, please, I have to see Asha! Please. I’ll be good. I’ll get clothes. I’ll get a new blanket. I don’t even _want_ my old one! I don’t! I j-just want Asha.” By the time Theon could finally get all the words out he was all but howling, shaking with sobs. 

“Theon. Listen. Theon, listen, please. That isn’t up to me, sweetie. I am taking care of you. I don’t have permission to take care of your sister. Just you.” 

“But...but I l-love her. And sh-she loves me. I w-want to b-be w-with Asha!” Theon was gasping between words, scarcely getting in enough air between sobs. 

“Theon, you need to be with grownups who can keep you safe and healthy.” 

“NO!” he wailed, hysterical. 

“Your sister is just a little girl, Theon. You can’t stay with her.” Deborah’s voice held the soothing tone, but she raised it, trying to speak over Theon’s crying. “You both need to be taken care of, Theon.” 

“I don’t want to! I want Asha! You can’t m-make me!”Theon cried for the rest of the drive to the “store.” He quieted a bit when he made himself gag but he just couldn’t get the tears to stop. 

..... 

Volunteers at the donation center were waiting for Deborah and Theon when they finally arrived. A smiling elderly woman with a sky blue cardigan and short, white hair led them in. She had soft, sympathetic words for Theon as she ushered him away from Deborah to look at the shelves stacked with new and gently used clothing. Theon wasn’t the first removed child to come through the center in tears, after all, and the experienced volunteer did her best to distract and guide him along. 

The whole experience was like a bad dream for Theon, and he half hoped he would wake up as the old woman he didn’t know heaped a set of pajamas, two sets of clothes, and a new blanket into his arms. He sniffled, not even bothering to pretend he was giving her feedback on the coats, backpacks, or shoes she held out. In the end, the volunteer stuffed his new things away in his new backpack and carried it for him. All Theon could do was clutch desperately at the first stuffed toy he’d been offered while he followed the volunteer and Deborah around, weeping silently and not listening what they discussed. 

By the time Theon was bundled back into Deborah’s car he was half asleep on his feet. Tucked under his new beige knit blanket and cuddling his wolf plushie, Theon slept for the rest of the drive. 

Hunger brought him around only minutes before Deborah stopped the car in front of a new house. He followed her out of the car in a daze and up to the large front door of a new, strange house. Deborah rang the doorbell and spoke with the person who answered. After they were welcomed in by the stranger, other adult voices and bodies appeared, surrounding Theon and his advocate. 

Theon kept his eyes on the ground, swaying slightly where he stood as he tried not to see or hear what was happening. He knew a little about what was happening. Deborah had talked about it, tried to explain it to him. Theon knew Deborah was leaving, knew he would be staying with this new family she had found for him. The Starks. He knew this strange place would be his new home. He knew wouldn’t get to see Asha again, or be with her. He knew he was still Theon Greyjoy, but also that it didn’t mean anything anymore.


	20. The extended stay in Starkland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry for the insane delay since my last chapter! I'll try to keep em coming. Thanks for all the support, I am loving your comments and kudos.
> 
> Theon's happy continued childhood, phase II.

The first weeks of life with the Starks made little and less sense to Theon. He shied away the immaculate furniture around the house that he was constantly invited onto. The sheets and blankets on his bed featured racecars and trucks in loud colors and felt stiff against his skin. He held back tears every time he dressed, pulling on t-shirts with pop culture references he didn’t understand, and tight jeans that made him feel naked. He shifted uncomfortably in the white polos and navy slacks he had to wear to school, and dressy clothes he had to wear on Sundays and other important liturgical dates. 

Theon constantly watched the clock during family board game nights, largely free of scrutiny as Ned had to prevent squabbling between Jon and Robb and Cat had to keep choking hazards out of Sansa’s quick fingers. He fidgeted more than he ate at every meal, edgy at having to sit at a table with Ned and Catelyn, and their three children. Robb and Jon were so smiley it hurt, and Catelyn hovered over Sansa, which only encouraged Theon to keep away from the littlest Stark. Something in Catelyn’s eyes and smile always made his stomach turn over, almost made him welcome the occasional check-in visits that brought Deborah to the Stark residence. 

Theon stared blankly at a bedroom wall during his daily “home study time,” slumped over the tiny desk in his room with his head on his arms. Private Catholic school was a brand new kind of nightmare for Theon and he was grateful to have quiet time alone to recover from school days full of nice kids from good families. Wasn’t it bad enough he was hounded by the presence of his foster family members during every waking moment? 

He knew Robb and Jon were in their bedrooms, too, busy with the meager school work they received. Usually some sort of worksheet with traceable words or numbers, or copying down the title of the previous night's bedtime story to maintain their kindergarten reading logs. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to will himself to fall asleep at his desk. He’d lie down in his bed, but the talk he’d get for falling asleep at his work desk was preferable to the one he’d get for isolating himself, and sleeping during the day, and his willfulness about not sharing his thoughts and feelings. 

A soft knock on his door, cracked open because those were the rules, made him jolt upright in his chair even though he knew he was out of anyone’s direct line of sight. 

“Need any help with your homework, Theon?” 

“No please,” he mumbled, feeling a flush creep up his neck into his cheeks. He couldn’t understand why Ned Stark’s gentlest tone always made him feel so guilty, so wrong in his own body. It was better than the gross feeling... “I can do it. Thank you, Ned.” He swallowed. Saying his foster father’s name still felt like dropping a stone into the lake of his stomach. 

“Sure thing, bud. Dinner in thirty, okay?” 

“Okay.” Theon waited until he heard the rumble of Ned’s voice at the doors of his other children, his _real_ kids, before he forced himself to lean over and tug his homework folder out of his open backpack. 

Third grade at his new school involved a lot of floundering, and frustration he had to hide. He scowled and rolled his eyes as he pulled a stapled work packet from the folder. At least he only had math. He _hated_ spelling. 

..... 

By the fifth grade, Theon had the whole routine down for everything. Even school morning masses. Line up quietly. Tuck in his God’s blessed shirt. Genuflect while passing the giant crucifix mounted on the wall behind the altar at the front of the church. Genuflect again before walking into a pew. Sit up straight in the pew. Stand. Sing. Help his classmates tip the cushioned kneeler down. Kneel. Avoid smiling at Beth kneeling next to him, fighting herself to avoid looking at him. Sit again. Stand again. 

_”May the Lord be in my mind, upon my lips, and in my heart.”_

Count silently during the reading and the homily. 

_”Amen.”_

_”Though him with him in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honors is Yours Almighty Father, forever and ever.”_

_”Amen.”_

Move his lips to the words of the communion song in his pew while his teacher and classmates went up the center aisle to receive the Body of Christ. Sit quietly. Stand. 

_“The peace of the Lord be with you always.”_

_“And also with you.”_

_“Extend to one another a sign of that peace.”_

Shake hands of nearest classmates. Grin along with everyone else as teachers glared a command to stop drawing out the sharing of peace between as many friends as possible for as long as possible. 

__“Go forth, to love and to serve the Lord.”__

_“Thanks be to God.”_

Sing _again_. Line back up. Leave quietly. 

Back in the school, Theon sat quietly through the religion class following and referencing the passage read during mass. He did his best to project studiousness while he doodled in the margins of his workbook. He went through the same motions, like he did every day, for the math, science, social studies, and english classes that followed. Do enough to get by. Go home. Do homework. Pretend enough at dinner. Play obligingly with Robb and Jon, who were thankfully becoming obsessed with Legos. Finally. 

..... 

“Mr. Greyjoy. You _also_ have yet to return your permission slip.” 

Theon stood to reply, facing his teacher and completely at ease. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Fischer. I swear I mailed it to the prison where my father is. I have no idea why he never sends my permission slips back signed.” He exchanged grins with the other boys. Winked at Beth, pleased with the way her mouth fell open in mock appall. Theon reveled in the titters and smothered giggles from the other girls. 

“I’m sure your foster parents are more than willing to sign your form.” His teacher’s voice was icy and loaded with the disdain he’d come to enjoy eliciting. “I’ll give you a new one at the end of the day. And it’s another indoor recess for you.” 

“Yes Mrs. Fischer.”


End file.
